HEROINES OF CRUSADES. 



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HEROINES 



OF 



TIE CRUSADES 



BY C /. BLOSS. 

AUTHOR OF "bLOSS's ANCIENT IIISTOR Y," ETC. 



"Old historic rolls 1 opened." 




DETROIT : 

KERR, DOUGHTY <fe LAPHAM. 

1853. 



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Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1853, 

BY ALDEN, BEARDSLEY & CO., 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
Northern District of New York. 



THE LIBRARY 
•r CONGRESS 

IWA tHIWGTOW , 



TO MY PUPILS, 

IS AFFECTIOITATELY DEDICATED 

BY THE A.UTHOR. 



PREFACE. 



To those whom it has been my privilege and pleasure to lead 
through the devious and darkened paths of the Past, to all who cor- 
dially receive the doctrine that actions and not faint desires for Excel- 
lence form the character, I address a few words by way of explanation 
and Pi-eface. 

Jerusalem, the capital of Palestine, whether glorious in the beauty 
of her first temple, and the excellent wisdom of her philosopher king, 
or veiled in the darkness of that fatal eclipse in which the solemn 
scenes of Calvary consummated her glory and shame, has occupied a 
position in the great drama of human events, more interesting and 
important than any other city on the globe. 

But Jerusalem, in the gloom of that moral night which gathered 
over the nations after the fall of the "Western Empire of the Romans, 
exerted a greater influence upon the minds of men than at any for- 
mer period. The insulting Moslem felt a degree of veneration for the 
splendid ruins over which he walked with all a conqueror's pride — the 
Afiican anchorite left his solitary hermitage to weep upon Mount 
Olivet — the European adventurer wreathed his staff with the branch- 
ing palm from her holy hills — the despairing Jew sat in sackcloth at 
her fallen gates, and even the mingled barbarians of the East united 
with the Christian to revere the spot where art achieved its proudest 
monument, and poetry found the theme of its sublimest song. 

This natural reverence, exalted into piety by the decrees of the 



viii PREFACE. 

church, resulted necessarily in the practice of pilgrimage. Anxious, 
restless guilt, fled from the. scene of its enormities to the sweet valleys 
where the Saviour whispered peace to his disciples ; poetry sought in- 
spiring visions on the Mount of Transfiguration ; penitence Hngered 
in the garden of Passion, and remorse expiated its crimes in weary 
vigils at the Holy Sepulchre. 

At the dawn of the eleventh century, one sublime idea pervaded 
Christendom. The thousand years of the Apocalypse were supposed 
to be accomplished, and a general behef prevailed that on the Mount 
of Olives, whence the Son of God ascended in his chariot of cloud to 
heaven, he would reappear in all the pomp of his Second Advent 
From every quarter of the Latin world the aflFrighted Christians, de- 
serting their homes and kindred, crowded to the Holy Land — terror 
quickened devotion, curiosity stimulated enthusiasm. But insult and 
outrage awaited the pilgrims in Palestine, and in Jerusalem itself they 
encountered the scoffing taunts of idolatry and infidelity. 

To free those holy courts from the polluting tread of the sandalled 
Paynim, to prepare a j)ure resting-place for the Son of Man, Super- 
stition roused the martial spirit of the age, and enlisted chivahy under 
the banners of the cross. 

Thus began the Crusades, those romantic expeditions which, com- 
bining rehgious fervor with military ardor, united the variotis nations 
of Europe from the shores of the Baltic to the Straits of Gibraltar, 
and fi'om the banks of the Danube to the Bay of Biscay, in one com- 
mon cause, and poured the mingled tide of fanatics, warriors and ad- 
venturers, upon the plains of Asia. For nearly two centuries the 
mightiest eflforts and best blood of Christendom were wasted in the 
useless struggle, and it is computed that not less than six millions of 
people devoted their lives and fortunes to this desperate undertaking. 

But though the Crusades are so important to the historian as in- 
volving the politics of all nations ; to the philosopher as fraught with 
consequences aflfecting the happiness of succeeding generations ; and 
to the scholar as commencing the era when Genius, brooding over the 
ruins of the Past, rose Phoenix-like from the ashes of Arabian splendor, 



PREFACE. ix 

and soaring in the clearer light of Christianity, scattered from her -wing 
the dew of refinement upon the barbarians of the North ; yet the 
general reader feels that his knowledge of them is so vague as to de- 
tract materially from his pleasm'e in allusions to them, and continually 
to force upon his mind a painful sense of ignorance upon points where 
he ought to be informed. 

In some measure to supply a deficiency which common history can- 
not obviate, to make the period of the Crusades interesting, by giving 
to it the tangible thread of authentic narrative, these biographies of 
the " Heroines" who inspired the troubadour, animated the warrior, 
or in person " took the cross," have, with much care and labor, been 
selected and compiled. 

The era opens about the time of the Conquest, when William I,, 
unquestionably the greatest ruler of his time, returns in triumph to 
Normandy. No two writers agreeing as to the age of his children, I 
have arranged them as best suited my piu-pose, making Cicely the 
eldest, the betrothed of Harold ; and the second daughter, Agatha, the 
bride of Earl Edwin ; and Adela, whose ambitious character is well 
authenticated, the Heroine of the First Crusade. 

The character and superstitions of the Saxons, with their love of 
" legendary lore," I have endeavored to embody in the early life of 
Maude, while I have endeavored to make her riper years illustrate the 
principles and piety of a teacher to whom you are all much attached. 

The half-infidel Hardrager, who was necessary to show both the 
plan of Battle Abbey and the causes and character of pilgrimage, 
might really have been the leader of the Assassins, since they estab- 
lished themselves in Mount Lebanon, and incorporated in their behef 
some of the doctrines of the New Testament about that period. 

Eleanor of Aquitaine was one of the few women whose mature years 
in some measure atoned for a youth of folly. Agnes Strickland cites 
authorities to show that Fair Rosamond passed nineteen years in a 
convent, and died with the reputation of a saint. You will excuse me 
that I permitted death to cut her oft" in " her young beauty's bloom" 
to present a more afiecting picture of the sad effects of guilt. The 



X PREFACE. 

ballads are not mine ; some I found in obsolete works, and one was 
versified from a legend of the Early Romancers. 

For tlie Tournament, and contest with, the lion in Berengaria, I am 
indebted to the same veracious authority, though I cannot account for 
Richard's finding the Lion's Heart so conveniently situated at the bot- 
tom of the throat, except from the fact that " Physiology and Hygiene" 
had not then assigned the true position to the internal organs. 

I was very sorry not to make Joanna as interesting as Edith in the 
Talisman, but this was clearly impossible — first, from the fact that I 
had not the genius of Scott; and second, because I made it my study 
to adhere strictly to truth. It was Saphadin and not Saladin who 
sought to ally himself with the princely house of Plantagenet, and I 
found it convenient to console his disappointment by bestowing uj)on 
him the fictitious lady I had brought to seek her fortune in the East. 
Michelet cbnfia-ms this decision by his statement that this was emphat- 
ically the era of women, and that for some years a female exercised 
the sovereign power over the territories of Islamism. 

Blondell, upon whose very existence so many doubts have been cast, 
is, I think, a well-authenticated character, who "^^^fisys his 2^a'>'t'''' Avith 
gTeat fidelity and truth. 

Had I not been limited as to space, the ring in the hand of Vio- 
lante's grandson would have projected the catastrophe of the Sicilian 
Vespers. For the same reason, I could only allude to the strife be- 
tween the Guelphs and Ghibellines, to the ci\al wars of France and 
England, to the Crusade against the Albigenes, and the founding of the 
Inquisition by St. Dominic, when, in quest of heresy, he traversed the 
hills and vales of Languedoe, and doomed to death those brave spirits 
who dared to exercise the right of private judgment. 

Eva is the only purely fictitious character of any importance in the 
work, and she was drawn from life, a portrait which some of you may 
recognize. Fuller, in his " Holy Wai-," contradicts the legend of Elea- 
nora's drawing the poison from Edward's wound, but adds, " he Avho 
shall disprove this pretty fiction shall get to himself little credit," and 
I confess I had not the courage thus wami'd to attempt it. 



PREFACE. XI 

I would here gratefully acknowledge my obligations to the gentle- 
men of the Rochester University, through whose politeness I have been 
permitted to consult several woi'ks of early English authors not re- 
published in this country, from which I have made liberal extracts 
both of facts and language. 

In conclusion, I can only say I have endeavored to set before you a 
true history in a series of entertaining stories. In the former, I am 
confident I have succeeded both as regards events and chronology ; of 
the latter I am somewhat doubtful ; but if my " Heroines" have the 
efiect to awaken curiosity and induce research, I shall feel that " they 
have their reward." 

Clover Street Sem., Nov. 30th, 1852. 



CONTENTS. 



-•-•-♦- 



Pago 

Adela«of Blois ^^ 

Eleanok of Aquitaine 11^ 

Berengaria of Navarre ^^^ 

Isabella of Angouleme 279 

VioLANTE of Jerusalem 307 

Eleanor A of Castile 341 

First Crusade, a.d. 1090 '^^ 

Second Crusade, A.D. 1147 132 

Third Crusade, A.D. 1187 221 

Fourth Crusade, A.D. 1198 272 

Fifth Crusade, a.d. 1203 281 

Sixth Crusade, a.d. 1215 315 

Seventh Crusade, a,d. 1249 347 

Eighth Crusade, a.d. 1272 377 

Notes ^®^ 



ftahr^i nf CniHahn. 



Godfrey of Boulogne, First Crusade. 

Stephen, Count of Blois, " " 

Louis VII. of France, Second " 

Frederic I. Barbaeossa, Third " 

Philip II. Augustus, " " 

Richard I. Cceur de Lion, " " 

Henry, Count of Champagne, .... Fourth " 

Conrad of Germany, " " 

Thibaut, Count of Champagne, . . . Fifth " 

Dandolo, Doge of Venice, " " 

Jean de Brienne, King of Jerusalem, . " " 

Hugh X. de Lusignan, Count la Marche, " " 

Andrev/ it. of Hungary, Sixth " 

Frederic II. of Gersiany, " " 

Louis IX. of France, Seventh " 

Charles d'Anjou, King of Sicily, ..." " 

Edward T. of England, Eighth " 



A D E L A. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE NIGHT Oi? THE 20TH OF MARCH, 1067. 

"Wave liigli your toi'claes on each crag and clilF. 
Let many lights blaze on our battlements, 
Shout to them in the pauses of the storm 
And tell them there is no hope." Matukin's Bertram. 

All iiiglit long the Lady Matilda, with her becoming 
children, knelt before the holv shrine in the old Abbey of 
Fcschamp. 

Anxiously had they watched throngh tlio lingering twi- 
light, for the whitening sails of the Conqueror's fleet. ISTo 
sails appeared, and the night fell dark and stormy upon tlie 
English channel. Meet was it that prayer should ascend 
to Him who rules the destiny of nations, for the hojDes of 
all future times were rocked upon that midnight sea. The 
field of Hastings was won, Harold was slain, England was 
subdued, and the ships of William the Conqueror, filled 
with the flower of l^orraan chivalry, and followed by the 
sad remnant of Saxon nobles, were speeding to the Nor- 
man coast. 

Was it Woden the storm-throned, that thus with relent- 
less fury pursued the Yiking's progeny, — despoilers of the 
Saxon race ? Was it Thor the thunder-voiced, warning the 
proud Conqueror that the great heart of England still 
throbbed with the pulse of Freedom, though the vale of 
Sanguelac was red with the blood of her bravest sons ? 
Was it the spirit of a milder Faith that prevailed over that 
night of darkness, spread a calm morning on those troubled 
waters, and through that all-pervading sunlight scattered 
blessings countless as the liquid jewels that paved the track 
of the rescued ships ? 



20 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES, 

The Mora with its splendid convoy was in sight, the bells 
rang out merrily their matin chimes, and while Matilda 
lingered to unite in the anthem of thanksgiving and praise, 
the little Adela, escaping from the care of the attendants, 
found her way through the dim aisles, to the door of the 
church, where she stood the radiant picture of delight, 
gazing with childish interest upon the scene before her. 

The solemn service over, Matilda with her stately train 
emerged from the Abbey and encircled by a princely retinue 
of knights and ladies, watched the swelling canvass, which 
under the pressure of a steady breeze, bore the gallant ves- 
sels into port. Impatient of delay, the royal children ran 
eagerly down the green slope to the water's edge. " l^ow 
brothers mine," said the fiery William, " the fair and 
goodly land of England, to him who in three stones' cast 
shall twice strike yon fisherman's buoy." Seizing a pebble 
as he spoke, he was about to hurl it towards the destined 
mark, when Adela thoughtlessly grasped his arm. The 
stone dropj)ed idly into the wave, sprinkling the short 
cloaks, and embroidered tunics of the little gronp. A deri- 
sive laugh followed this exploit, and Adela, familiar with 
the efiects of William's anger, fled from his uplifted hand 
to the protecting care of Richard, who, sheltering her with 
his arm, exclaimed, " Robert, imagine yon buoy a Saxon 
Earl, and try your prowess upon him. I resign all claim 
to the conquered realm." 

"Book and bell, latin prayers, and a pilgrimage for my 
brother Richard," replied Robert, selecting a smooth pebble 
and preparing to throw, but, ere the stone left his hand, a 
well directed missile fi'om William struck the buoy, and 
sank it for a moment beneath the waves. With a look of 
proud disdain Robert hurled the stone. It fell dimpling 
the waters far beyond the mark. "England is mine," 
shouted William, as again with unerring aim he dashed the 
buoy beneath the surface. " England is mine," he repeated, 
pointing exultingly to the Saxon banner grasped in the 
hand of his own efiigy upon the prow of the Mora. Robert 
smiled contemptuously, and rejoined his mother. 



ADELA. 21 

All eyes were now directed towards the gallant bark 
which rode proudly into port, amid the joyous flutter of 
banners, gonfanons, pennons, and streamers which from 
every mast, spar, and standard, waved and flapped in the 
morning breeze. 

A glad shout burst from the assembled multitude, and 
cries of " Long live the conqueror William ! Long live our 
good Duke of Normandy !" echoed by the clangor of 
trumpet, and chiming of bells, welcomed the victor on 
shore. Fondly embracing his lovely wife and children, and 
graciously receiving the greeting of his rejoicing subjects, 
he turned to present the noble Saxons, that swelled the 
pom J) of his train. 

" My Matilda will welcome Edgar Atheling, in whose 
veins flows the blood of her sire Alfred the Great. The 
brave Earls Morcar and Edwin, the noble "Waltheof, and 
his beautiful daughter Maude, are also guests at our court, 
and must lack no courtesy at our hands." *' 

While Matilda with high-born grace and dignity received 
her reluctant guests, the little Adela accustomed to the sight 
of mail-clad barons, and princely array, felt herself irre- 
sistibly attracted by the timid girl, who clung tremblingly 
to the arm of Earl Waltheof. Other eyes than hers were 
fascinated by the appearance of the lovely stranger. A 
yellow kirtle of the finest wool fell in graceful folds to her 
feet ; over this was thrown a purple robe, which confined 
at the bodice by a girdle exquisitely wrought, draped with- 
out concealing the delicate proportions of a figure cast in 
nature's finest mould. A crimson coverchief half hid the 
jewelled network, from which her fair brown hair, bright- 
ening to gold in the sunshine, escaped in rich abundance 
over a neck of snow. The steady light of her meek violet 
eyes fell lovingly on Adela, and the faint tinge upon her 
cheek deepened into a brilliant blush, as the sprightly 
child kindly taking her hand, led her forward to receive 
the kiss of welcome from the Queen Duchess Matilda. 



22 HEROINES OP THE CIIUSADES. 

CHAPTER II. 

"But doth the exile's heart serenely dwell ia sunshine there?" 

A SUCCESSION of brilliant pageants, and l-aiightlj enter- 
tainments awaited the Conqueror, liis nobles and hostages, 
in their pompous j)rogres3 through all the towns and cities 
of ISTormandj, from Feschamp to Bayeux. 

Kobert already wearing the spurs of knighthood, girt 
with silver baldric, and bearing high the lance with its 
pointed banderol, led the van ; gallantly conducting the 
3'oung Earls Morcar and Edwin, and the royal Atheling : 
while the aspiring Prince William, attaching himself to 
a band of his father's best trained bowmen, practised on 
bright winged birds, those feats of archery in wliicli he 
subsequently became so cruelly skilful. 

Adela obtained a j^lace near the gentle Maude, and strove 
by every childish art to charm back the smiles that tran- 
siently enlivened the sad countenance of the Saxon maiden. 
ISTot less assiduously, and not more successfully did the 
Duke King, and his haughty consort, employ the fascina- 
tions of easy grace, and polished wit, to beguile the gloomy 
musings of the captive Waltheof. So passed they on, the 
sad hearts with the gay. So sat they in the halls of mirth, 
the one keeping strict lenten fast, the other revelling in tri- 
umphal feasts ; one sole thought embittering the fast, and 
sweetening the feast — and that thought England. 

In a chamber in the palace of Bayeux were assembled the 
household of the Conqueror, busy in their daily occupations. 
Groups of girls, with nimble fingers, wrought silently under 
the eye of Matilda, the sad epic of England's fall. 

'•' Leave thy tangled skeins to these fair maids, and the 
skilful Turold, and come thou apart with me," said Wil- 
liam, abruptly entering and drawing his Queen aside, 
within the deep embrasure of the window, "'tis of thy 
glory and mine that I would speak." 



ADELA. 23 

The conference lasted long. The yoting princes sum- 
moned -the maidens to the mimic tourney in the tiltjard, 
and waiting clouds prej)ared the gorgeous couch of sun, 
beyond the hills of Bretagne, ere the wily statesman had 
completed the unfoldings of all his schemes, for fixing the 
Norman line securely upon the throne of Edward the Con- 
fessor. He revealed his apprehensions from the stern char- 
acter of Waltheof, and his hopes from the fascinations of 
his niece Judith d'Aumale. From Edgar Atheling he 
feared little. The boy reared in a foreign court, a stranger 
to Saxon language and manners, had neither desire nor 
capacity to contend for a dignity unsuited to his j^ears. He 
was already hand and glove with Robert, and subject to 
the imperious will of the young knight. 

But Morcar and Edwin were more dangerous foes. Kins- 
men of the late king, at the least disaffection they might 
rouse the friends of the famous Earl Siward, vanquisher 
of Macbeth ; the thegns of IsTorfolk, Ely, Huntingdon, 
and Northrumbria, stretching far to the Scottish border ; 
and the valiant man of Mercia allied to the terrible 
Welsh. 

" The victory at Hastings, my Queen," said William, 
with his blandest smile, " does not establish peaceful rule 
o'er all the hills and vales of raerrie England. Let policy 
complete what valor has commenced. Methinks our pretty 
Cicely might bind the restive Edwin in the silken toils 
of love, more securely than unwilling homage or extorted 
oath." 

" Cicely, the betrothed of Harold !" exclaimed Matilda. 
" Could'st thou have seen her agony when tidings of Har- 
old's death came with news of thy victory, thou would'st 
scarcely speak to her of love." " A childish fancy," im- 
patiently cried William, " the breath of praise soon dries 
the tears on a maiden's cheeks. She must be the Saxon's 
bride." 

" It is impossible," replied the Queen. " In JSTotre-Dame 
de Bonnes Nouvelles, while my soul was filled with joy for thy 
safety, did I dedicate thy broken-hearted child to be the 



24 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

bride of Heaven. The holy Lanfranc has already sanc- 
tioned the vow." 

William strode hastily up and down the chamber, tying 
and untying the rich cordon of his cloak in uncontrollable 
anger and disappointment. 

Matilda laid her hand soothingly upon his arm. " Aga- 
tha is fairer than Cicely — Adela hath wit beyond her 
years, and child as she is, will readily comprehend all thy 
schemes." 

" Talk not of Adela, she hath a head for intrigue equal 
to my brother Odo. Wed her to one who might foster her 
ambition, and neither crown nor throne would be beyond 
her aspirations." 

" Agatha hath a loving heart," pleaded Matilda. 

"Thou sayest truth Bein Aimie, 'tis by the heart woman 
rules. Agatha shall be the affianced of Edwin before he 
leaves these shores." 

Thus it was settled. The new Queen received the title 
of the manor of Gloucester, and condemned the owner, her 
former lover, to perpetual imprisonment. The fair Maude 
was to dwell in exile a hostage for the fidelity of her father, 
till a fitting opportunity might occur to make her hand the 
bond of amity between the Conqueror and some disaffected 
peer. Other hostages with their various possessions were 
disposed of in a similar manner, and thus the shades of 
evening stole into that darkened chamber, and brooded 
like palpable forms over the sacrifices which the new sov- 
ereigns covertly laid upon the altar of Avarice and Am- 
bition. 

The ceremony of betrothal took place on the following 
evening. There were guests in embroidered garments and 
costly jewels, there were lights and music, and more than 
wonted festivity : yet Maude saw only Edwin, and when 
taking the hand of the little princess, he pronounced with 
unhesitating voice, " Thine, and thine only," the color faded 
from her lip and cheek, as if a mortal woe had fastened on 
her heart. 

There were gifts and congratulations, and as Edwin 



ADELA. 25 

presented his bride a miniature shield of silver, saying gal- 
lantly, " This shall thy heart from other love defend," a 
gleam of triumph on the countenance of "William assured 
Matilda that Edwin was w^on. 



CHAPTER III. 



• " oil 1 the joy 

Of young ideas paiuted on the mind, 

In the warm glowing colors fancy spreads 

On objects not yet known, when all is new 

And all is lovely." HA>fNAn Mork 

When the spring deepened into summer, Edwin, exult- 
ing in the pride of his youthful elegance and jDrincely alli- 
ance, returned loaded with honors to his restored domains. 

Agatha wept sore at his departure, but no tear trembled 
on the cheek of Maude. All external emotions were buried 
in the grave of hopeless love, and thenceforth in her pale, 
changeless beauty, she looked the ivory shrine, where the 
ashes of some holy thing were preserved, to work daily mira- 
cles upon the restless spirits by which she was surrounded. 

In her society the turbulent, and self-willed children of 
the Conqueror became calm and docile. Often in the long 
still twilight would she hold them a charmed circle, listen- 
ing with breathless awe to wild tales and ghostly legends 
of the terrible Vikings ; who drove their daring keels into 
unknown seas, and immured their wailing captives in sun- 
less dungeons of northern ice, or left them naked and 
shivering upon a barren coast, a prey to the wolfish winds, 
that lifted and tossed them ever on the red and bristling 
spears of Aurora's giant demons. 

The story of the Babe of Bethlehem — cradled among the 
beasts of the stall — heralded by angels, and worshiped by 
the eastern sages, passing, a holy presence that diffused joy 
and comfort to every heart, through the green vales of 



26 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

Jndea — walking unsandaled upon the glassy waves of Gal- 
ilee, and standing in robes white as the light npon the 
top of Tabor, agonizing in Getbseinane, and suffering upon 
Calvary for the redemption of a ruined race, recited in the 
inellow tones of Maude, imparted an interest to the scenes 
of the Savioui-'s life and passion, which all the sacred relics 
and saintly effigies of the church had failed to awaken. 

But especially did Eobert and Adela delight in tales of 
the turbaned Paynim. The long caravan winding its spicy 
track through emerald oases, or glistening sands — the 
dark-browed Saracens with spear and cimeter careering in 
battle on Arab steeds, fleet as the desert wind — terrible 
Turks from the wilds of Khosser, swifter than leopards, and 
more fierce than the evening wolves — swarthy Nubians 
clustering like locusts in the holy places — toil-worn pilgrims 
scourged and massacred, and christian children slaughtered 
to furnish diabolical repasts for Moslem fiends, were themes 
that never failed to excite the most intense curiosity, and to 
rouse the direct imprecations of vengeance. 

From one of these narrations, Kobert rose with a deter- 
mined air, and exclaimed — " My grandsire, Eobert le 
Diable, s.a}' the monks, was carried to lieaven on the backs 
of fiends ; but if by the favor of St. Stephen, I ever visit 
the Holy Land, it shall be not with pilgrim's stafi*, but with 
sword and lance, to drive those cursed fiends back to their 
place of torture." 

" It were a holy work," said Richard, "and one the saints 
would bless." 

" Were I a knight, or might a woman set lance in rest," 
cried Adela, " those heathen dogs should no longer feed 
upon the flesh of clnistian babes. Shame to the peers of 
Normandy, that sit quietly in Eouen while the. Holy Sep- 
ulchre is in the hands of infidels." 

"The Y)eers of Normandy will sit quietly in Eouen only 
till my father returns from his conference with Lanfranc," 
said William. " Last night a small vessel anchored off the 
Coast, and a messenger came in breathless haste to the 
palace. I could not gain speech with him, but I know he 



ADELA. 27 

brings tidings from Fitz Os])orne, and our Uncle Odo. Hugh 
de Glaville conjectures there is treason in England." 

" My mother dismissed her maidens at an earlier hour 
than is her wont, and sent away Turold with a frown, when 
he brought her his pattern of the wooden fort," said Cicely, 
with a sigh, " my heart misgave me then that some peril 
was impending." 

" Pray God it may not reach Edwin," said Agatha, with 
white lips. 

" Pray God the troubles may continue till my father 
moves his court to London," said William, as rising from 
the mossy bank upon which they had been sitting, the 
anxions party returned through the pleasance, to the great 
hall where the evening meal was prepared. 

When the silent i-epast was finished^ Maude led the weep- 
ing Agatha to her own chamber, and lifting the curtain of 
the oratory, stood with her before an altar covered with a 
richly embroidered velvet pall. Upon the altar was placed 
a golden crucifix, before which burned a silver lamp, and 
in a niche above, an alabaster image of the Madonna. 

"Daughter of the Norman William," said she, taking 
Agatha's hands and kneeling before the altar, " with the 
holy cross before thee, and the eyes of our blessed lady 
looking down upon thee, tell me truly, lovest thou the Saxon 
Edwin?" and Agatha whispered low but firmly, "I love 
the Saxon Edwin." 

" Turn thy eyes to the stars, emblems of unchanging 
faith, and tell me trul_y, wilt thou be to Edwin a guardian 
Fylgia in weal or woe ?" and Agatha answered, " I will 
guard Edwin in weal or woe." 

" Lay thy hand upon this holy shrine," again said 
Maude, lifting the purple pall, and revealing a jewelled 
casket, "and tell me truly, though father, mother, brother, 
friend, or priest, compel, wilt thou with Edwin keep thy 
plighted troth?" and Agatha answered, "I will with Edwin 
keep my plighted troth." "The pure Mary, the sleepless stars, 
and this holy relic of St. John the divine aid thee to keep thy 
vow, Amen." And Agatha responded solemnly — " Amen." 



28 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

All that night the patient Maude wrought with a magic 
bodkin upon the trothgift of Edwin, inscribing thereon a 
Saxon charm, that worn upon the breast of his mistress 
should shield him from danger, defeat, and death ! the 
trusting Agatha keeping silent vigils bj her side, while 
from the court-yard below echoed the tramp of steeds, and 
the heavy tread of mail-clad warriors hastening prepara- 
tions for departure. 



CHAPTER IV. 

" That cruel word her tender heart so thrilled 
That sudden cold did run through every vein, 
And stony horror all her senses filled, 
With dying fit, that down she fell for pain." 

Spenser's Fairy Queen. 

" When sorrows come, they come not single spies. 
But in battalions." Shakspeaee's Hamlet, 

The conjectures of Prince William were well founded. 
The peers of Normandy were again summoned from their 
castles to attend the Conqueror, and the following spring 
the royal family removed to Winchester. 

The coronation of Matilda was the most imposing pa- 
geant that had ever been seen in England. Foreign 
princes and peers graced the brilliant ceremonial — a nu- 
merous and lordly company of Normans attended her to 
the church, and a body-guard of Anglo-Saxons, among 
whom Agatha distinguished Edwin, conspicuous alike for 
the beauty of his person, and the almost oriental magnifi- 
cence of his apparel, reconducted the new Queen and 
her beautiful children to the j)alace, where a splendid ban- 
quet closed the festivities. 

This season of rejoicing was followed by events of a sad 
and gloomy character. The peculiar miseries which fell 
upon England during the disastrous years of 1069-70 com- 



ADELA. 29 

pelled the Queen with the ladies of her court, again to seek 
safety in Normandy. The revolt of Earl Waltheof — the 
invasion of the Danes — the flight of Edgar Atheling — the 
hostility of Malcolm, King of Scotland— the destruction of 
the city of York — the death of Aldred, its beneficent, and 
much loved bishop — the desolation of Northumberland — 
the laying waste the county of Hampshire — the confiscation 
of private property — and the cry of houseless wanderers, 
perishing of want, furnished a scene of unexampled calam- 
ities, while the odious revival of the Danegelt, and the 
still more odious imposition of the couvrefeu^ goaded the 
exasperated inhabitants to desperation, and excited con- 
stant rebellions and insurrections. 

The heart of the king, grieved and irritated, became en- 
tirely alienated from his Saxon subjects ; and when Earl 
Edwin demanded the hand of Agatha, his claim was re- 
jected with reproach and scorn. 

Meanwhile the ladies of the Norman court, no less than 
Matilda, deplored the absence of their lords, and murmur- 
ings and complaints succeeded to sadness and discontent, 
as month after month, and year after year rolled on, and 
still the troubles in England required the constant exercise 
of the Norman arms. 

The unheralded arrival of the Conqueror, with a military 
escort at Caen, excited a brief sensation of pleasure, but 
small cause had his family to rejoice in his coming. 

The princesses were listening with rapt attention while 
Maude related the romance of a northern Jarl, who each 
night when the moon hung her silver lamp on high, moored 
his ocean palace beneath the shadow of a castle, beetling 
the sea, to woo fair Ulnah the Pearl of the Orkneys. The 
maiden, leaning spell-bound from the lattice, had yielded 
to the enchanter's song, and dropped a pale pearl upon the 
deck of the war-ship ; the wizard-bird that nestled in its 
shroudings had spread its broad wings and hovered brood- 
ingly above the casement, when flaming torches — splash- 
ing oars — and wild shouts, announced the coming of her 
father's fleet. 



80 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

At this point of the story a messenger hastily entered 
and summoned Agatha to the presence of her dread father. 

With sad presentiments the princess rose and silently 
obeyed the mandate. JSTone M^ere present with the Con- 
queror in the audience-chamber save Matilda, Lanfranc, 
and the Saxon secretary, Ingulfus. 

"Seat thyself beside me, daughter, and listen to my 
words," said the haughty monarch, with unwonted tender- 
ness. " That I bade thee pledge thy hand to Earl Edwin to 
secure the peace of England, instead of trusting that event 
to my good sword, hath long grieved me sore ; and often 
have I prayed the holy saints to absolve me of the sin. 
Heaven has heard my prayer and averted thy doom." 

An involuntary shudder shook the slight frame of Agatha, 
but no sound escaped her lips. 

"The brave Alphonso, King of Gallicia," continued the 
king, " has sent to woo thee for his bride ; ambassadors 
wait in the antechamber, and the good Lanfranc has con- 
sented to release thee from thy extorted vow. "With this 
costly ring the prince of Spain plights thee his faith." 

Agatha instinctively drew back her hand. 

" Nay, shrink not, my daughter. The Saxon was un- 
worthy of thy love. Knowest thou not he is leagued with 
thy father's foes ? Resign thou his troth-gift, I will restore 
it to the proud Rebel. Bid thy maidens robe thee in ap- 
parel befitting thy rank, (certes, the Spanish diadem will 
well become thy jetty locks.) Even now a splendid con- 
voy of vessels ride at anchor in the harbor to convey thee 
to thy future lord, and the pious Ingulfus, who hath long 
desired to visit the Holy Sepulchre, shall attend thee to the 
coast of Spain." 

Agatha neither spoke nor moved. 

"Give me thy troth-gift, silly girl," cried her father 
angrily, bending his brow upon her, with the terrible frown, 
at which bold hearts were wont to quail. 

Mechanically the trembling victim, drew from her bosom 
the talismanic shield. Lanfranc took it from her hand, 
placed the ring upon her finger, repeated the words of 



ADELA. 31 

absolution, and the ceremony of betrothal, and when he 
ceased, Agatha lay at her father's feet, pale and cold in a 
death-like swoon. But bitterly as Matilda wept over hti- 
suffering daugliter, her heart was torn with still keener an- 
guish, at the maledictions pronounced upon her lirst-boni 
and favorite son. Robert had been betrothed in infancy to 
the heiress of Maine ; and had cherished the most roniantic 
attachment for his affianced bride. On the death of tho 
princess the people demanded him for their lord, and the 
young regent, generous and rash, had proceeded to take pos- 
session of the duchy, and administer justice in his own name. 

William now required him to resign the fief, not onlv, 
but to give his hand to Maude, the beautiful captive, who 
had so long been the companion of his sisters. With the 
true spirit of chivalry, Robert indignantly replied ; 

" The lovely Maude hath already bestowed her affections 
on Eail Edwin, and Robert's bride shall never bear to the 
altar a reluctant heart. Thou hast sacrificed the meek 
Agatha to the lust of dominion, but the gentle Maude shall 
never suffer from thy tyranny, while tiie sword of a belted 
knight can defend her. If ever I am king of England, the 
lands of Huntingdon shall be hers, with free riiiht to 
choose her own lord." 

'' Boast not thj'self of to-morrow, England shalt thou 
never have. I have won it by mine own good sword, the 
vicars of Christ have set its crown upon my head, and 
placed its sceptre in my hand, and all the world combined 
shall not take it from me," cried the monarch in a parox- 
ysm of rage. 

"I only demand the suzerainshipof Normandy and Maine, 
which all men say is my just inheritance," replied Robei-t. 

"Thou would'st do well to remember the fate of Absalom, 
and the misfortunes of Rehoboam, and beware of evil 
counsellors," retorted William. 

Robert insolently rejoined, " I did not come hither to 
listen to sermons, but to claim the investiture which has 
been promised me. Answer me positively, are not these 
things my right ?" 



32 HEK01.NB;S of THK CliUSADES. 

" It is not inj custom to strip before I go to bed," replied 
the Conqueror ; " and as long as I live, I will not divide my 
native realm, Normandy, with another, for it is written in 
the holy evangelists, ' Every kingdom divided against 
itself shall become desolate.' " 

" If it is inconvenient for thee to keep thy word, I will 
depart from Normandy, and seek justice from strangers, 
here I will not remain a subject," retorted Robert, with 
equal pride and scorn. 

" Par le splendeur de De," shouted William, half un- 
sheathing his sword. " It is not to be borne, that he who 
owes his existence to me, should aspire to be my rival in 
mine own dominions. May the curse of Cain light upon 
thy un dutiful head." 

Thus they parted, Robert to take refuge with his mother's 
brother, in Flanders, and William to return to his dis- 
tracted kingdom, where the fires of civil war still smould- 
ered in the ashes of freedom. 

In such scenes was Adela nurtured, and thus in an atmos- 
phere of intrigue and superstition, was a character natu- 
rally penetrating and impetuous, prepared to devise and 
carry forward the wildest schemes. 

Public calamities, and domestic vexations, impaired the 
peace and irritated the temper of the English monarch. 
Bodesmen from the north, brought news of leagues and 
plots against his power, while messengers from Normandy, 
conveyed tidings of the disaffections of his peers, and the 
hostilities of the French king. 

Richard, his most dutiful and affectionate son, had accom- 
panied him to Englaiid. The young prince was exceed- 
ingl}'- fond of the chase, and often spent whole days hunting 
in the New Forest of Hampshire. 

The malaria of the depopulated district, and the painful 
emotions awakened in his sensitive nature, by the sight ot 
famishing wretches, vainly seeking food and shelter, 
brought on a delirious fever, which soon terminated his 
life. He was interred in Winchester Cathedral. 

The last tone of the curfew bell was reverberating 



ADELA. 83 

through the silent halls of the palace, when the distracted 
father, haunted by the piteous lamentations, and reproach- 
ful ravings of his departed son, threw himself despairingly 
upon his couch. 

" News from beyond seas," said the chamberlain, enter- 
ing, and presenting him a letter. William cut the silk and 
read. 

" In the name of the blessed Mary, ever virgin, St. Mi- 
chael, and St. Valery, doth thy poor scribe Ingulfus pray, 
that strength may be given thee, duke William, by grace of 
God, king of England, to bear the dreadful tidings, which 
much it grieves me to convey. When this comes to thee thou 
wilt know that thy sweet daughter, Agatha, liveth no more. 
From the day of our departure she shed no tears, but a ten- 
der wailing sound, like the moan of a wounded dove, 
issued ever from her lips. Her heart, she said, was devo- 
ted to her first spouse, and she prayed that the Most High 
would rather take her to himself, than allow her ever to be 
wedded to another. Her prayer was granted. 

"The faintness which we witnessed at her betrothal, 
returned upon her by night and by day, but she never 
murmured ; and on the eve of the blessed St. Agnes, hav- 
ing received the rites of our holy Church, she died, with- 
the crucifix in her hand, and the name of Edwin on her 
lips." 

The scroll dropped from the hand of the stricken father 
and a remorseful pang wrung his heart. 

Again the chamberlain entered ushering in a dark figure 
wrapped in a long serge cloak, like those usually worn by 
monks. Kneeling at the monarch's feet, the stranger 
spoke. " Knowing, oh king ! thy munificence to thy faith- 
ful servants, and moved by the love I bear thy throne and 
realm, I have discovered to Fitz Osborne the secret haunts 
of thine enemies, and to obtain tliy royal favor, have 
brought from the Isle of Ely, that which I hope will please 
thee well. Behold the head of the Saxon chief." 

The Conqueror shrank back in horror, as the well-known 
features of Edwin, pule and distorted with the death agony, 



34 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

and the long, fair locks all dabbled with gore, met his be 
wildered gaze. 

" Cursed traitor !" shouted he, starting from his seat, 
" dost thou think to win my favor by bringing me the head 
of thy murdered lord ? Ho ! seneschal, convey this Judas to 
the lowest cell of the donjon. There shall he learn how 
William rewards the betrayer of innocent blood." The 
prisoner was borne from his presence. 

The monarch buried his face in his hands, and burst 
into tears of uncontrollable anguish. 

" Woe is me, my daughter, — Done to death by thy 
father's unholy ambition — Thy Edv/in hunted and slain on 
his own hearth-stone. What has this sceptre brought me ? 
Toilsome days, and sleepless nights, — a divided household, 
— and children cut oft" in the flower of their youth. Truly, 
saith the Scripture ; ' Woe unto him that coveteth an evil 
covetousness unto his house.' " 

As he bowed his head his eyes fell upon the fatal, silver 
shield. Lifting it reverently from the floor, and wiping 
the clotted blood from its polished surface, with some dif- 
ficulty, he deciphered the Saxon inscription, which has 
been thus elegantly translated. 

" Edwin his pledge has left in me, 
Now to the battle prest : 
His guardian angel may she be, 
Who wears me on her breast. 

To him truehearted may she prove, 

Oh ! God, to thee I pray ; 
Edwin shall well requite her love, 

Returning from the fray. 

But if, forgetful of her vows. 

May Heaven avert the thought. 
She sell this love-charm of her spouse, 

Which never could be bought ; 

If of her own free will she cast 

This talisman away ; 
May Edwin's life no longer last. 

To rue that fatal day." 



ADELA. 35 



CHAPTER Y. 

" Still to the truth direct thy strong desire, 
And flee the very air where dwells a liar. 
Fail uot the mass, there still with reverent feet, 
Each morn be found, nor scant thy otferinif meet. 
Haste thee, sir kiiiglit, wliere dames complain of wrong; 
Maintain their right, and in thiir cause be strong." 

The last act in the blondj traged^y of Eiig-land's sub- 
jection, was coiisuinuiatcd in tlie year 1074, wlien Eai-1 
Waltlieof, having been drawn into a phtt against the 
crown, and betrayed by liis NfU'nian wife, Jndith, to her 
uncle, the Conquerctr, was beheaded on a rising grouiid, 
just without the gates of Winchester, the first Anglo Saxon 
that perished by the hand of the executioner. 

The perfidious Judith had fixed her affections on a 
French Count, but William had already secured a willing 
agent of his own pui'poses, in the person of Simon, a 
Noi'man noble, lame and deformed, on whom he designeil 
to bestow her hand, with the rich earldoms of Northampton 
and Huntingdon. 

The haughty Judith scorned the alliance, and stripped 
of rank and power, retired to the wilds of Yorkshire in 
obscurity and contempt. 

The bitter tears occasioned by the melancholy fate of 
Agatha and Edwin, were fresh upon the cheek of Maude, 
"when the heavy tidings of her father's cruel death, over- 
whelmed her in a tide of deeper anguish. A lingering ill 
ness followed, yet sweet dreams stole ever upon her rest, 
and the watchful Adela comprehended, that transported to 
tbe home of her childhood, in the gaiety of life's early morn, 
she trod again the breezy upland, and fragrant glade, 
wandered through wood and wold, with Edwin by her side, 
or sitting by the star-lit fountain, challenged the nightin- 
gale from out the leafy holt, with snatches of Rtmic rhyme, 
and Saxon melody. i?ut yuuiig life combating disease, 



86 HEROINES OF THE CKUSADES. 

slowly led her back from the gates of the grave. One by 
one the bright visions faded, and sadly her eyes unclosed 
to a consciousness of the dark realities before her. 

William had determined that the hand of the beautiful 
heiress of Huntingdon, should compensate the pliant Simon 
for the mortifying refusal of her stepmother. The be- 
trothal was to take place directly on the Conqueror's arrival 
in ITormandy, but the happy oblivion of Maude, no less 
than the entreaties of Adela, and the menacing of Robert 
served to delay the doom they could not finallj^ avert. 

William had subdued the rebel province of Maine, and 
moved by the declining health, and incessant pleading of 
his beloved Queen, had accorded to his refractory son a full 
pardon for his late rebellion, " promising at the same time, 
to grant him everything that he could expect from the 
affection of a father consistently with the duty of a king." 

Thus peace was restored throughout the Conqueror's 
dominions, and the royal family happy in their reunion, 
kept merry Christmas in the capital city of Eonen. 

" Sweet sister mine," said Robert to Adela, as she sat 
engaged upon the famous Bayeux tapestry, " pray leave 
the royal nose of our valiant sire, which thou hast punc- 
tured and cross-stitched, till verily it seems to bleed be- 
neath thy fingers, and lend an ear to thy brother^s words." 

" Now, gramercy ! Curthose," said Adela, laughing, 
" thou must have a distinct impression of thy noble father's 
visage, since thou canst not distinguish his nose from the 
' fiery train' of the terrific comet." 

" ISTay," said Robert, taking up the simile, " tlie Con- 
queror's fiery train in England, has wrought more terror 
than all the comets since the days of Julius Csesar, as the 
inhabitants of York will testify ; but come, lay aside that 
odious tapestr}^, I have other work for thy skilful fingers." 

" My duteous brother would, perhaps, employ them in 
puncturing his noble sire, at the field of Archembraye, but 
a maiden's needle wounds less deeply than a warrior's 
sword," said Adela, archly. 

" Certes, thy tongue is shai'ii^ji" tluui tiiy needle," said 



ADELA. 37 

Kobert, reddening, " and thine eyes outdo thy tongue. On 
the field of Archerabraye I did but wound my father's 
arm, while one bright shaft from thine eye& has pierced 
Count Stephen's heart." 

" Methinks a heart so vulnerable, should be clad in 
armor," said Adela, reddening in her turn. 

" Thy woman's wit doth run before my speech and pro- 
phesy my errand," said Eobert. "The Count Stephen, of 
Blois, bids me entreat the fair Adela to bind him in ring 
armor, that the friend of Robert may be his brother in 
arms." 

" ITe bids thee !" said Adela, dropping the embroidery. 
" Is the count, then, in Rouen ?" 

" Even so, bien amie," replied Robert. " Hast thou 
not marked a noble figure entering the church at twilight, 
and emerging at sunrise, his regards bent upon the ground 
except, perchance, when he steals a glance at my charming 
sister, accompanying her mother to matins or vespers." 

" In truth, I marked such a youth," said Adela, blush- 
ing, "but wherefore frequents he not the court?" 

" He holds his vigil of arms till twelfth day," replied 
Robert, " and the Conqueror has promised, that ere the 
Yule-clog, as Atheling calls it, has ceased to burn, he will 
himself lay the accolade of knighthood upon the shoulder 
of the young count. 'Tis my father's wish that his children 
assist at the ceremony." 

" My father's wish !" said Adela, in a tone of deep sur- 
prise. 

" Certes, sweet," rej^lied her brother, " thinkest thou the 

Conqueror sees not the white flocks that range the green 

T)astures of Blois, that he hears not the sound of the busy 

>oms of Chartres, and loves not the sparkling wine, that 

lows from the blushing vineyards of Cliampaigne ?" 

"Robert, thou hast broken my needle," said Adela, 
striving confusedly to hide from the penetrating eyes of 
her brother, the influence which these considerations exer- 
cised over her own ambitious heart. 

"I have broken thy needle of wool, that tlioii miglitst 



38 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

thread a finer with floss of silk to embroider the scarf for 
thy gallant knight," said Eobert, rising to withdraw. 
Adela followed him to the antechamber, and dismissing 
the attendants, concerted with him the arrangements for 
the pageant. 

Scarcely confessing to herself the sweet hopes that for 
the first time agitated her bosom, she quitted the joust- 
ings and maskings of the holidays, and passed the festive 
season in the privacy of her own apartment, where assisted 
only by the faithful Maude, she wrought upon Tyrian pur- 
ple the golden lions of Chartres, budded the shining 
damask with the fleur de lis of Champagne, and sewed 
the embroidered field azure with the pearly crescent of 
Blois. The deep tones of the turret clock tolling the mid- 
night hour broke the stillness that reigned through the 
castle, just as Adela severed the last silken thread from the 
embroidery frame, and held up the gorgeous baldric in the 
light of the lamp before the admiring gaze of her friend. 

" Hush !" said Maude, placing her finger on Adela's lip 
to repress a joyous exclamation, " we have a proverb in the 
north that, ' finished works bring prophetic dreams.' — Hast- 
en to seek thy pillow, but beware thy glance wander not 
from yon bright star that even now glimmers through the 
casement. Breathe not a word while I wreathe the silken 
scarf in the folds of thy canopy, and whisper the mystic 
charm of the morthwyrtha." "With an incredulous smile 
Adela obeyed, and dismissing the tire- women, Maude left 
her to her solitary slumbers. The sun had scarce risen 
when Maude again entered the apartment. 

" The visions of the future have visited thy rest," said 
she, glancing inquiringly at the thoughtful countenance of 
the princess. 

" Question me not," replied Adela, " a promise and a 
fear have bewildered me — coming years can alone explain 
the mystery." 

The great hall of the palace was fitted up for a brilliant 
ceremony. All the knights and nobles, bishops and clergy 
of Normandy, and the adjacent provinces, arrayed in the 



ADELA. 89 

most gorgeous vestments of their several orders, vi^ith high- 
born dames and blushing maidens, sparkling in jewelry, 
lined the apartment, at the npper end of which stood the 
family of the Conqueror, beside an altar covered with cloth 
of gold. 

The 3'oung princes Robert and William after attending 
Count Stephen to the bath clothed him in white garments, 
and covered him with a crimson cloak, the one symbolical 
of the purity of his soul, the other of his determination to 
shed his blood in the cause of heaven. Arrayed in this 
simple garb, after the celebration of the high mass, he 
entered the hall and approaching the altar, presented his 
sword to the bishop, who blessed and consecrated it to the 
service of religion and virtue. 

Lanfranc then addressed him thus. "Thouseekest, Count 
of Blois, to become a knight — thou art of noble birth — of 
liberal gifts and high in courage. — Thou must be strong in 
danger — secret in councils — patient in difficulties — power- 
ful against enemies — prudent in deeds. Lay thy hand upon 
this holy missal, and swear to observe the following rules." 
And Stephen laid his hand upon the clasped volume, and 
repeated slowly, after the priest. 

"I do solemnly promise and swear to spare neither my 
blood nor my life in defence "of the Catholic faith, — to aid 
all widows and orphans — to protect the innocent and op- 
pressed — to be humble in all things — to speak the truth 
from the heart — to seek the welfare of my vassals — to re- 
gard the rights of my sovereign — and to live righteously 
before God and man." 

Then rising from his knees and throwing off his cloak 
the neophyte stood with his head reverently inclined toward 
the priest, while Prince William buckled on the spurs of 
knighthood, and Edgar Atheling fastened the greaves, and 
Robert belted the corselet ; gracefully he sank upon his 
knee, when Maude advancing adjusted the helmet upon his 
closely curling locks, and Constance presented the spear 
with its drooping pennon ; but his head bowed in conscious 
devotion, and the warui blood glowed eloquently on his 



40 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

manlj cheek, while Adela, the lady of his love, tremulous 
with agitation, passed the scarf about his neck — fitted the 
silken folds across his breast, and belted the jewelled knot 
upon the ivory sheath of his sword. 

Appareled in his splendid armor the young count took 
the consecrated weapon from the altar, and presenting it to 
the king, knelt before the throne while the monarch rose and 
laid upon his shoulder three gentle blows, saying in a voice 
whose deep tones echoed to the farthest end of the hall, " In 
the name of St. Michael, and St. Stephen, I make thee 
knight. Be loyal, bold and true." 

Following the example of the Conqueror, each knight ad- 
vanced a step, drew his sword from the sheath, and while 
the hall gleamed with the flash of burnished steel, the man 
of God again took up the word, blessing him who had 
newly undertaken, and those who had long been engaged 
in holy warfare, and praying that all the hosts of the ene- 
mies of heaven, might be destroyed by christian chivalry. 

The trumpets sounded without, and the knights thronging 
around their brother in arms, conducted him to the court 
below, where vaulting upon their steeds, they rode through 
the admiring crowds, among whom Stephen scattered lar- 
gesses with a liberal hand. 

The banquet over, a gallant train of mounted knights and 
ladies emerged from the wooded park and wound along the 
banks of the Seine. There was rare sport that day, when 
the fox broke cover, and the hounds darted away upon his 
track, and the curveting steeds bounded over the crisp 
green sward, in the wild excitement of the chase; but th& 
proud barb of Stephen obedient to the rein, curved his 
glossy neck and moved with lofty step, by the dappled 
palfrey of Adela, while the young knight whispered words 
that the princess loved to hear; and thus in sweet converse 
the day wore away, and when the solemn night came on, 
beneath the blue cope of heaven, while the stars gazed from 
their sapphire thrones and the river mingled its low music 
with the murmur of their voices, Adela plighted her troth 
to Stephen Count of Blois. 



A DEL A. 41 

But ti ceremonial more joyous than a betrothal — more 
Bolemn than a burial, occasioned the removal of the court 
to Feschamp. 

From the day of Harold's death, Cicely his betrothed, 
devoted herself to the cloister. Her father had bestowed 
a princely dower upon the convent of her choice, and fixed 
the day of her profession upon the high festival of Easter. 
At the close of the lenten fast, she quitted the scene of her 
childish pleasures, gazed a last adieu on the hills, vales and 
streams, over which the early spring of that bright climate 
was casting its mellow sheen — distributed alms among the 
mendicant crowds that thronged her route, and bade a kind 
farewell to the multitudes, that flocked from every village 
and hamlet, to invoke the blessing of heaven upon her holy 
purpose. 

Adela stood again in the old abbey of Feschamp, lis- 
tening to the joyous sound of the matin chime, but neither 
the happy associations awakened by the place and hour, 
nor the warm breath of early love could charm the sadness 
from her heart. 

She had entered the dark cloister, and conducted Cicely 
from her w^eary vigil beside the holy relics, to wreathe her 
dark locks with jewels and gold, and array her fair form 
for the last time in the garb of a princess. With the selfish- 
ness of affection, she suffered none but Maude to share the 
pious task. 

Fast fell her tears as the whispered sounds of her sister's 
devotions forced upon her an appalling sense of the final 
separation. 

The convent bell had scarce ceased its summons, ere a 
splendid concourse filled the galleries, and thronged the 
aisles of the Abbey to witness the holy bridal. 

Proudly and painfully beat the heart of the king, as his 
saintly daughter leaned upon his breast — twined her soft 
arms lovingly about his neck — and imprinted her last kiss 
upon his cheek; but sympathetic tenderness overmastered 
all other emotions, as with gentle force he drew her from 
the last fond embrace of her weeping mother, and the con- 



42 HEROIN K.S OF THE CRUSADES. 

vulsive clasp of the almost fnintic Adela, and resigned ber 
in all her youthful beauty, to be immured in a living tomb. 
Her three young sisters less grieved at the parting, than 
pleased with the pageant, with hasty adieus prepared to 
take their place in the ceremony. 

With a light step nicely modulated to the soft chanting 
of the nuns, the little Adeliza bearing a jewelled crucifix, 
led the procession, followed by Constance and Gundred, 
each carrying a lighted taper and bearing between them a 
lily-shaped basket of wrought silver, containing the vestal 
habit and veil which they laid upon the altar. 

At the solemn call of the bishop, the fair Cicely entered, 
prepared as a bride adorned for her husband, and support- 
ed by the matron sisters passed up the long aisle, her white 
robes like a gathering mist floating about her fragile form, 
and her calm and serene countenance, beaming with such 
angelic sweetness from beneath the gossamer wreath which 
ornamented her head, that to Maude's fanciful vision she 
seemed already crowned with the radiant halo of the saints. 
A brilliant burst of jubilant melody, pealing from the organ, 
accompanied the nuns in their welcoming hymn, " O 
Gloriosa Virginium," and a breathless silence pervaded 
the holy courts as the soft voice of Cicely responded. 
" Receive me, oh Lord ! according to thy holy word." 

Kneeling before the bishop she begged his benediction 
and the name of Cecilia her patron-saint. The reverend 
Father gave her the consecrated name, signed her with the 
sign of the cross, and sprinkled holj'-water upon her gar- 
ments. 

The high mass celebrated, and the Kyrie Eleison sung, a 
waxen taper was placed in her hand, and seated by the 
chancel, she listened with devout attention, while the arch- 
bishop portrayed the beatitude of that high vocation, which 
had called her from the pomps and vanities of earthly 
grandeur, to the durable riches of a heavenly kingdom ; 
from the waning light of earthly affection to the ineffable 
love of the immortal bridegroom ; — from the fading lustre 
of an earthly diadem, to the changeless glory of an eternal 



ADELA. 43 

crown : and scarcely had he conchided with tlie gracious 
words, " Many daugliters have done virtuously, but thou 
excellest them all," when the whole orchestra took up the 
note of commendation and " Gloria in Excelsis" sounded 
through the cloistered aisles, echoed along the vaulted roof, 
and breathed to the heart of the waiting novice the full 
reality of joy. The sacred vestments M'ere blessed and re- 
placed in their silver shrine, and the children resuming 
their precious burden preceded their sister into an inner 
apartment, where busy nuns disrobed her of her resplen- 
dent array, — despoiled her of her costly ornaments — and 
one by one shred away her long, bright locks, that never 
more might stir a thought of pride. 

The solemn bandeau was bound about her brow, the 
black serge garment wrapped about her form, and when 
she again knelt before the bishop, saying, " lam the hand- 
maid of Christ," ail ill-suppressed shriek from Adela, told 
how changed was her appearance, and how gloomy was the 
fate that awaited her — but th6 votaress saw" nothing, heard 
nothing, save the sacred mysteries in which she was en- 
gaged. Prostrated as if in deep abasement she lay upon 
the marble floor, while the choir chanted the litany ; gently 
she inclined to the abbess, to be bound by the girdle of hu- 
miliation ; reverently she bowed her head to receive the 
veil that should forever shut the world from her sight ; joy- 
fully she accepted the ring that sealed the irrevocable vow ; 
and while the choir chanted, " Come, oh spouse of Christ, 
receive the crown," a coronal of mingled thorns and roses 
was placed upon her head — and Cicely was a nun. 

Loud anthems pealed upward to the swelling dome, and 
every demonstration of joy welcomed the bride to her new 
home. 

The royal guests sat down to a splendid repast in the 
great hall of the convent, and nuns and novices shared in 
the sumptuous entertainment ; but between Cicely and her 
family was an impassable barrier of an iron grating, and 
four thick and cold stone walls separated her forever from 
the friends of her youth. 



I 



44 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 



CHAPTER VI. 

" What is't we live for ? tell life's fairest tale — 
To eat, to drink, to sleep, love, and enjoy, 
And then to love no more ! 
To talk of things we know not, and to know 
Nothing but things not worth the talking of." 

Sir R. Fane, Je. 

" Methinks," said Adela, as she sat with Maude in the 
loved twilight conference, " it were a weary thing, to fast 
and pray as doth my sister Cicely, and look forever on 
those dull, cold images of stone or pictured saints, whose 
holiness we can never hope to reach," 

" Thou thinkest so, dearest, because on the bright scroll 
of thy future is pictured a living form glowing with youth 
and beauty," said Maude ; " but when death shuts out the 
light of hope, the pencil of love illumines the canvass ever 
with the image of a saint." 

" I have never seen a Saxon saint but thee, best one," 
said Adela, affectionately kissing her cheek. " Cicely 
worships the memorj^ of him who would have wrested the 
broad realm of England from her fatlier." 

" And Agatha died for one who loved that father," said 
Maude, half rej)roachfnlly. 

" I cannot read aright the riddle of life," replied Adela, 
pensively, " less still the riddle of love. Doth not the 
heart seek happiness as the flower seeks the light ? yet 
what men call the 'ends life lives for,' wealth and power 
and dominion, terminate in discontent, despair, and death. 
No duke of Normandy, since the days of Rou, hath been 
so successful as "William the Conqueror, yet the meanest 
serf is happier than he : and this love that makes my 
heart flutter like a joyous bird, has consigned our Agatha to 
an early grave — immured Cicel}'^ in the abhorrent convent — 
and," she added, with a deprecating glance, " has plucked 
the last pale rose from the cheek of my lovely Maude." 



ADELA. 45 

" Thou speakest thus because thou knowest neither life 
nor love," replied the maiden. " Thou deemest wisely that 
a lofty purpose must call the strong man to effort, else lying 
dormant would his faculties perish with the rust of inactiv- 
ity. Our pious bishop, Aldred, used to say; that any pur- 
pose so holy as not to need evil means to work its ends, 
like the consecration of the wafer, brings to the human soul 
the real presence of Christ." 

" Thy riddle is too deep for my poor wit,'i said Adela. 
" Tell me of the love I know not — thy love." 

" Thou fanciest thou lovest Count Stephen," said Maude, 
with a sigh, " but should he plight his love to another, 
thou w ouldst regard him with hate and scorn." 

" Aye, verily," replied Adela, her cheeks glowing, and 
her dark eye flashing, at the thought. 

" So loved not Maude Earl Edwin. Thy father bade 
him give his hand to Agatha, and when I marked the un- 
divided current of their lives, flowing on in a stream of 
bliss. Ambition and Hope were quenched in my heart, but 
Love went forth to light their pathway, and gilds with 
heavenly radiance their early tomb." 

" Maude !" exclaimed Adela, enthusiastically, " thou 
wert not formed for this sinful world ; thou shouldst dwell 
with the angels, for verily thou art one of them." 

" Commend me not," said Maude, " thou little knowest 
the bitter repinings of my heart when I heard I might not 
enter the convent with Cicely, nor how my soul recoils from 
this unnatural alliance with Simon." 

" And thou wouldst rather kneel upon the cold stone 
floor, and scourge thy tender flesh with knotted cords, than 
live almost a princess in thy merrie England !" said Adela, 
with unaffected surprise. 

" Nay, rather would I work a weary pilgrimage to Pales- 
tine, and dwell an eremite in the lonely caves of Engaddi, 
had choice been left with me," answered Maude. 

" A pilgrimage were not so sad a fate," said Adela ; 
" the marvellous tales with which thou didst beguile my 
childhood hours, so wrought upon my fancy, that even to 



46 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES, 

this day the very name of Jerusalem calls up visions bright 
as the bowers of Eden. jSTever have I wondered that pil- 
grims flocked to the Holy Land when they deemed the 
thousand years of prophecy accomplished, and expected 
to witness the azure gates unfolding above the holy sep- 
ulchre, and the Saviour descending upon the Mount of 
Olives amid all the terrific splendor of the final judg- 
ment." 

" Scarce a century since," sighed Maude, " men looked 
for this heavenly kingdom, and verily believed they found 
in prophecy the confirmation of their hopes. My grandsire 
died upon the banks of the Jordan earnestly expecting the 
coming of his Lord.'' 

" There is a flash of spears in the moonbeams," inter- 
rupted Adela, gazing from the arrows-slit of the turret. 
" Seest thou not a troop of horse, winding along the brow 
of the hill ? Eye and heart alike deceive me if that be not 
Count Stephen's plume. Methought, ere this, he had reach- 
ed the borders of Maine. And there is Robert by his side. 
Our lady grant their coming bode no ill." 

" They pass beneath the shadow of the castle," said 
Maude. " They are not all mounted. Those men on foot, 
in the garb of friars, how wearily they follow, leaning upon 
their long staves." 

" They are pilgrims !" exclaimed the maidens with one 
voice. " Let us descend to welcome them." 

Prince Henry met them in the corridor. " Count Ste- 
phen has returned," said he, "and awaits my sister in the 
tapestry chamber." 

" Come with me, Beauclerk," said Maude, leading away 
the young prince. " Thou shalt conduct me to these holy 
pilgrims." 

" Adela," said Stephen, kissing the hand of his affianced 
as she entered, " thou art surprised, but I hope not ill- 
pleased at this unlooked-for return." 

" I feared me some mischance had occasioned it," said 
Adela, " but seeing thee well, I am happy — yet wherefore 
art thou come ?" 



ADELA. 47 

'* Thy brother, Robert," replied Stephen, '* vouchsafed 
to escort riie with twenty hmces to the town of mantes — but 
when we reached the banks of Eure, we found the bridges 
swept away, and the fords rendered impassable by the 
swollen waters. A band of pilgrims were encamped upon 
the other side, and at the sight of the Norman pennon, they 
sent forth a piteous cry for aid. We swam our steeds 
across the turgid stream, and each horseman mounting a 
palmer behind him, we brought them safely over. And 
what was my joy to find I had thus rendered some slight 
service to Ingulfus, the early tutor of my loved Adela." 

" Our lady be praised, the good Ingulfus has returned. 
His pupil then shall thank his benefactor as she ought." 

" He is wayworn and weary," pursued Stephen, " much 
toil hath he had in his long pilgrimage, and precious are 
the relics he has brought from Palestine. I craved from 
his gratitude a portion of the holy dust, for thy oratory. 
Should danger threaten the unworthy Stephen, the prayers 
of Adela, at such a shrine, would doubtless avail for his 
protection." 

The princess started, and the color fluctuated on her 
cheek, as with a look of surprise and recognition she re- 
garded the beautiful crystal urn, with its amethystine en- 
tablature, on which were engraven the names of Adela and 
Stephen. 

'' Dost reject my gift, or hath son:ie sudden illness seized 
thee ?" said her lover, anxiously, remarking her strange 
emotion. 

" A silly dream — a passing faintness," said Adela, con- 
vulsively grasping the urn, and pressing her pale lips upon 
the inscription. " The hour wears late, to-morrow we will 
meet again." 

The young count imprinted a kiss upon her cold brow, 
and supporting her trembling steps to the antechamber, 
consigned her to the care of her attendants. 

When the lovers met the following morning in the chapel 
to which all the inhabitants of the city repaired, to see the 
high altar decked with the palms of the pilgrims, and join 



48 HEKOINES OF THE CKUSADES. 

in the general thanksgiving for their return, all traces of 
agitation had disappeared from the countenance of Adela. 
Relieved from his jealous fears, Count Stephen basked in 
the sunshine of lier smiles, and protracted his sta}' during 
the festivities consequent upon the affiancing of Constance 
with Alan, Count of Bretagne. The young bride was dow- 
ered with the lands of Chester, once the possession of the 
unfortunate Earl Edwin. And William, at the same time, 
accorded his approbation to the love of Stephen and Adela. 
Every heart seemed filled with gaiety. Entertainment 
succeeded entertainment. The days were occupied with 
joustings, hunting, hawking, feats of archery and tourna- 
ments ; the evenings were spent in games of hazard, or 
whiled away in listening to the wondrous tales of Ingulfus. 



CHAPTER VII. 

"Some npoa penance for their sins, 

In person, or by attorney ; 
And some who were or had been siek; 
And some who thought to cheat Old Nick ; 

And some who liked the journey ; 
And the staff was bored and drilled for those 

Who on a flute could play ; 
And thus the merry Pilgrim had 

His music on the way." Southey. 

" On my return to Caen with the remains of my dear 
lady Agatha," said Ingulfus, " I abandoned all thoughts of 
pilgrimage, till learning that the clergy of Germany had 
determined upon a visit to the Holy Land, the desire to 
worship at the tomb of the Saviour, returned again so strong 
upon me, that I was induced to unite with a ISTorman troop, 
which joined the company of the archbishof) at Mentz. We 
were a goodly band," continued he, "out of every nation, 
kindred, tongue and people, of the Latin world — and heaven 
that moved us to this expiation of our sins, opened before 



ADELA. 49 

US the way, and provided for our sustenance, both in the 
castles of princes, and in the cottages of peasants. 

" The monasteries, of which many have been founded by 
pious men throughout all Germany, furnished resting-places 
for the weary, and hospitals for the sick. When we enter- 
ed upon the kingdom of Hungary, which is ' a well-watered 
and fruitful country,' we found a strange peojDle, whose 
nobles and warriors indeed live in walled towns, and castles 
strongly fortified among the rocks ; but the common people, 
for the most part, dwell in tents like Abraham of old, and 
feed their flocks and herds upon the banks of the streams. 
These be the people, which the holy fathers thought were 
the Gog and Magog of sacred writ, and truly they came 
like a storm into Europe, and like a cloud they covered the 
land — both they and their bands. And because the time of 
their coming was near the end of the thousand years pro- 
phesied by St. John, many wise men did say, that they 
were the signs and forerunners of the end of the world. 
Tlowbeit since the end is not yet, there be not many at the 
present which hold this doctrine." 

"Are there not some who say, that Gog and Magog are 
the heresies which vex the church ?" inquired Robert. 

"'Even so," said Ingulfus ; " but such are not led by the 
true and manifest words of Scripture, but following 'cun- 
ningly devised fables' have explained away even the 
promises of God. Now that these are the people is proved, 
in that they came from Persia and from the north quarters, 
and the name in which they most delight is Magyar, which 
j^lainly agreeth to Magog, and whosoever shall dwell in the 
latter days, will see ' wars and rumors of wars' in Hungary, 
according to ray judgment. I have learned many things 
concerning them ; for either for my sins, or the badness of 
the roads, the beast on which I rode fell lame, and therefore 
was I forced to leave the horsemen, and follow on foot, sup- 
porting the weariness of the way with pilgrim's staff. 
Among us were those, who from fear and love of adventure, 
and not from devotion, had undertaken the pilgrimage. 
Their vain talk and godless manners troubled me sore. 

4 



50 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

There was one who liaving inserted a shepherd's reed in his 
staff, plajed thereon and sang with his voice, not the pious 
psalms of the church, but the unholy madrigals of the sin- 
ful and profane. And for that he saw it pleased me not, 
he delighted in it the more, and walked by my side, and 
when I could not rid myself of his company, I questioned 
him concerning his history. 

" lie was an Anglo-Dane of the north countrie, a born thrall 
of Earl Edwin, and had led a roving life from his youth. 
This man, whose name was Ilardrager, was the false vassal 
who betraj'ed the young noble, and received from the jus- 
tice of the Conqueror, the sentence of perpetual imprison- 
ment. But the princes of this world are often compelled to 
use unworthy instruments in carrying forward their plans. 
When your roydl father deemed it expedient for the peace 
of the realm to punish the treason of Earl Waltheof, and no 
man was willing to become his executioner, Hardrager 
purchased free pardon by beheading him." 

" It was well he sought to expiate his offences by a pil- 
grimage," said Adela. 

" Nay," said Ingulfus, " no thought of true penitence had 
ever entered his mind. Instead of profiting by the clemency 
of his sovereign, he applied himself anew to wicked prac- 
tices, pursuing the hare and slaughtering the deer in the 
New Forest; till finally having sufi^ei'ed the loss of an ear 
for his crimes, and still continuing to set at naught the game 
laws, he was condemned to death ; but as if the Almiglity 
had raised him up for a ' thorn in the flesh' to his servants, 
Hardrager again escaped his doom. It pleased your noble 
sire, when he founded Battle Abbey, on the field of Hast- 
ings, and appointed monks to pray for the souls of the slain, 
to grant to the Abbot the power of showing mercy to the j 
guilty. It chanced accordingly when Hardrager was drawn 
from his dungeon, and carried toward the gibbet, that the 
worthy Abbot meeting the cart, caused the procession to 
stop, and moved with pity for the criminal revoked his sen- 
tence, and laid on him the penance of pilgrimage. Hard- 
rager lost uo tuxi^ in quitting England, an^ found means to 



ADELA. 51 

join our , company, upon the banks of the Rhine. He 
seemed well provided witli purse and scrip, and often on 
days of fasting, purcliased an indulgence from the bishop 
for himself and other vain persons, to regale themselves 
with meat and wine ; and yet he seemed not to be without 
a sense of sin, and a certain reverence for the commands 
of the church. He rose early, and performed his devotions 
with the most scrupulous regularity, and every night 
scourged his naked shoulders with a knotted lash ; and 
when I looked for a reformation in his life from this whole- 
some discipline, he told me he did not that for his own sins, 
but for the sins of another, who furnished him money for 
the expedition ; for, by reason of his poverty, he had en- 
gaged to work out a three years' penance, that had been 
imposed on his benefactor ; and he added, with a light 
laugh, ' I can better endure the smarting of my flesh by 
voluntary flagellation, tlian the loss of it by compulsory ab- 
stinence.' " 

" By St. Stephen," exclaimed Robert, laughing, " the 
cunning knave is the true scape-goat of Scripture. It were 
no bad thought thus to expiate our sins by the vicarious suf- 
fering of some poor wretch." 

" Heaven forefend." said Stephen, " that we should be 
compelled to raise our own exchequer by such means." 

"The indulgences and requisitions of the church," gravely 
continued Ingulfus, " are too often perverted. I thank our 
blessed lady, who rather than continue me in the society of 
this wicked one, laid me upon a bed of sickness. For 
many days, I had with difficulty continued my journey, but 
Hardrager, who seemed insensible to fatigue, supported me 
by his strong arm, till coming to the lands of a powerful 
Hungarian, whose flocks and herds covered the hill-side for 
many a league, we fell behind tlie other pilgrims, and my 
weariness increasing upon me, I sank exhausted and sense- 
less upon the ground. What was my surprise when my 
consciousness returned, to feel myself upborne in the arms 
of Hardrager, who was attempting to place me upon the 
back of a horse which he had stolen from the adjoining 



52 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES, 

pasture, and bridled with the scoiirge that he wore about his 
loins. ' Cheer up, liolj father,' said lie, ' heaven has sent 
thee help in time of trouble. I will walk by thy side, and 
we will soon prove to yonder heartless drones that the last 
shall be first.' In reply to my remonstrance, he added, 
with a misbelieving smile, ' Nay, is it not written, " The 
wealth of the wicked is laid up for the just," yon savage 
Magyar may rejoice in the happy chance which enables 
him to send a substitute to the holy city.' 

" Upon my positive refusal to mount, he stood for a mo- 
ment irresolute, and then, with a smile, 'twixt jest and 
earnest, fell upon one knee before me, saying, ' Gra'mercy, 
good monk, I would crave thy blessing and absolution for 
this sin ere we part, for since thou wilt not accept the bounty 
of heaven, I must e'en take it myself.' Observing my hes- 
itation, he rose hastily, saying, 'It boots not, 'tis but a few 
lashes more, and my shoulders are well able to bear them. 
Adieu, holy fathei', I grieve that thy conscience stands in 
the way of thy advancement,' and springing upon the res- 
tive beast, he was away with the swiftness of the wind." 

" Nay, methinks I should have been less scrupulous," said 
"William, laughing. " The fellow's dexterity merited ab- 
solution." 

Ingulfus resumed, " Sick and alone, and much cast down 
in spirit, I stretched mj'self upon the grass, and looked only 
for death, but He who suffers not even a sparrow to fall 
without his notice, had compassion upon me, and sent a 
good Samaritan to my relief. Korshah, the noble Magyar, 
returning from the chase, came where I was, and seeing my 
low estate, gave his servants charge concerning me, to con- 
vey me to his own castle, where I tarried for above the 
space of a month, till my bruised feet were healed, and my 
broken health restored." 

" It was a deed of Christian charity. I would fain learn 
something of this strange people," said Adela ; "do they 
observe the rites of our church ?" 

" At the beginning of the present century," replied In- 
gulfus, " St. Stephen, the Alfred of his nation, divided the 



ADELA, 53 

country into seventy-two counties and twelve bishoprics, 
but though the people have submitted to baptism, and ob- 
serve the sacred canons, yet there prevails among them a 
strange mixture of barbarian fables, with the truths of holy 
writ; and their language is for the most j)art colored with 
the extravagant, but beautiful expressions of the Orientals. 
And because my mind was intent upon the prophecies, and 
I would know concerning Gog and Magog and the chief 
princes of Mesech and Tubal, I questioned the noble Mag- 
yar of his country and the people of his ancient land. 
' My people,' said he, ' are numerous as the stars of night, 
and countless as the drops of falling showers. The small- 
est twig of yonder elm, that throws its shadow across the 
valley, is greater when compared with its trunk, than is the 
Hungarian branch, in comparison with the Scythian tree, 
whose roots strike deep into the soil of China, and whose 
boughs overshadow the Alps — extend beyond the sea of 
darkness on the north, and distil dews upon the broad and 
fruitful regions of Persia and Cathay. Beyond the pos- 
sessions of our tribes to the eastward,' he continued, ' may 
no man go ; for a desert and a land of darkness lasts from 
that coast, unto terrestrial Paradise. There are the moun- 
tains and hills which arose from Koah's flood, when the 
soft and tender ground was worn away by the waters, and 
fell and became valleys. Paradise is the highest part of 
the world, so high that it touches the borders of the moon. 
And there hj a radiant way through the gates of the morning 
the angels were wont to descend to commune with our first 
parents; but that way was closed that Lucifer might return 
no more to the regions of light after he had tempted them, 
and thus with them was he driven forth from the garden. 
And Eve carried in her hand the seeds of the apple which 
she had given unto her husband, and wherever she wan- 
dered she cast them into the earth, and shed her tears uj)on 
them, and they sprang up and bore fruit, some good and 
some evil, and from those seeds came every green tree and 
herb that grow upon the earth. And this garden is en- 
closed all about by a wall, which seems not to be of natural 



54 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

stone — and tlie gate is of carbuncle flashing, with an in- 
credible sj^lendor, and shooting on every side its beams like 
flaming swords. Wherefore some visionary ones said it 
was Are, and many became worshippers thereof. And in the 
highest place in Paradise, exactly in the midst, is a well 
that casts out four streams, which run by divers lands 
throughout all the earth, and above the fountain of the 
streams, the four princes of the stars weave the semblances 
of what shall be, and cast them upon the waters, and 
whithersoever these flow there entereth a spirit into the na- 
tion or the peojile that dwell upon the banks, and they go 
forth conquering and to conquer. And thus were the tribes 
of Asia inspired to go toward the west, and establish their 
domain in Europe. Therefore wise men do study the stars, 
and read in the scroll of heaven the will of the Invisible. 
And all the sweet waters in the world above and beneath, 
take their rise from the well of Paradise. The drops of the 
morning-dew are gendered there, and thither the clouds re- 
turn after the rain. There the light zephyrs gather rich 
odors under their wdngs, and from thence carry them abroad 
upon all the face of the earth, and give to every flower its 
perfume. And because of the abundance of precious 
things that are found therein, many have entered these 
rivers and essayed to pass by that land of chaos unto Par- 
adise, but they might notspeed in their voyage ; for many died 
of weariness, by reason of rowing against the strong waves, 
and many were dashed in pieces against the dark rocks. 
And many vessels bound with iron were drawn aside by the 
shipman's stone, and held that they might never go thence.' 
I inquired concerning this stone," said Ingulfus, "and he 
told me there were in the eastern seas 'certain rocks of ad- 
amant which attract iron ; and that men would break off 
pieces, and suspend them by a thread, and that one point 
thereof would turn to the north, and another to the south ; 
and he said also that there are two stars fixed in the 
heavens, about which all the firmament turns as a wheel 
upon an axle. He said, moreover, that the earth and sea 
are of a round form, and that by this stone many mariners 



. ADKLA. 65 

have passed the whole cuin]>a3s of tlie earth, and come again 
to the same point wlience they set out. And these be not 
half the things that he told me, and there is none of them all 
but have some reason and understanding in them, and si»me 
good points of our belief. But though this man was both 
learned and devout, it grieved me to see in him the remains 
of his ancient superstition, for he was accustomed to wor- 
ship before a hideous idol. And when he knew I was 
grieved concerning the thing, he said* he worshipped ncjt 
the image, but the virtue which was in it, even as we ha\ c 
images of our Lady and of the saints, which we set betoio 
us, to keep their holiness in mind. Howbeit the man showed 
me no little kindness ; and when 1 was sufficiently re- 
covered, he furnished me with a strong, welhappointed 
horse, replenished my purse, and accompanied me to the 
next town on my journey. 

"I had hard riding to overtake my companions, which I 
should have failed in doing, had they not rested in Con- 
stantinople. 

"This city was first called Byzantium, which name is still 
preserved in the imperial mone_y called byzants. It w;is 
by di\i;;e suggestion that its appellation was changed. For 
when Constantine the Great was pursuing his victorious 
course to the east, he lodged in that place; and in his 
di'euiu he saw, and behold there stood before him an (jjd 
woman, whose brow was furrowed with age ; but presently 
clad in an imperial robe, siie was transformed into a beau- 
tiful girl, and fascinated his ej'es by the elegance of her 
youtlifid charms — and he waked and slept again ; and 
there came one unto him and said, 'The woman thou sawest 
is this city worn down by age, whose walls thou shalt i-e- 
store, and whose beauty shall signalize thy name to the end 
of time. Mount thy horse and give him the rein, to go 
whithersoever he will. Take the royal spear in thy hand, 
and its point shall describe the circuit of the wall upon the 
ground.' 

"The Emperor eagerly obeyed the vision, and employed 



56 HKRulxN'KS UF THE CKUSADKS. 

the most skilful architects in building the city. By casting 
in masses of rock and sand, they straitened the ancient 
waters, and thus the sea wonders to see fields unknown be- 
fore amid its glassy waves, and surrounds and supplies the 
city with all the conveniences of the earth, Constantine 
erected there the circus, statues of triumphal heroes, and 
tripods from Delphi. And all the saints whose bodies he 
w^as able to collect out of every country, were brought 
thither. In Constantinople is the fairest and noblest church 
in the world, called St, Sophia, It is of a circular form, 
domed in, and supported with pillars of gold and silver, 
hung about by lamps of the same precious metal. High 
mass is offered there on a different altar each day in the 
year. In its innermost part on the north side, is a large and 
beautiful apartment, wherein is a chest containing three 
pieces of our Lord's cross. Three times in a year this chest 
is brought out into the nave of the church, and placed upon 
a golden altar, where all the people are permitted to wor- 
ship it. Howbeit I saw it not, which thing is a grief of 
mind to me. And they say concerning this cross, that when 
Adam was about to die, Seth went unto the angel that kept 
Paradise, to beg the oil of mercy for his father. But the 
angel gave him only three grains of the tree of life. And 
Seth buried them in the grave of Adam, and from these 
grains S]3rang up three trees, and from these were fashioned 
the cross on which our Saviour was crucified, as is contained 
in these words, '//?- cruci Jit pahna cypressus oliva .^ Thus 
from the death of Adam came life into the world. And 
when our Lord had risen from the dead, the Jews moved 
with envy, took the crosses from Mount Calvary, and hid 
them in the earth. And thus St. Helena, the mother of 
Constantine, who was descended from the ancient kings of 
Britain, found them ; and when she could not distinguish 
the cross of the Saviour from those of the thieves, she caused 
a dead body to be laid upon them, and when it touched the 
true cross it arose. St. Helena caused these relics to be 
conveyed to Constantinople ; but the cross of Dismas the 
good thief, was carried to Cyprus, and men worship it there. 



ADELA. 57 

There also she found the Saviour's seamless coat, and the 
four nails that pierced his hands and feet ; and of one of 
these the Emperor made a bridle for his horse to carry him 
in battle, and thereby he overcame all his enemies, and 
reigned from Persia to the British Sea. They showed me 
also a part of the crown of our Lord, made of the branches 
of Aubespine ; and I had one of those precious thorns 
given to me as a great favor, and it hath this virtue ; that 
whosoever beareth it about him, is secure from thunder and 
from tempest, and from the malevolence of evil spirits and 
demons. We tarried long at Constantinople, for there were 
many wonderful things to be seen. Every year the birth- 
day of Jesus is celebrated with rejoicings ; and on these 
occasions one may behold representatives of all the nations 
that inhabit different parts of the world; and the common 
people are amused with surprising feats of jugglery and 
dexterous motions of wild beasts, and birds of prey that 
have been trained to fight each other. And the Emperor 
entertained the bishops right royally in the palace of the 
Blaquernel, in feasts and games, and gave them gifts of 
gold and silver, rich apparel and costly jewels, so that they 
were in no haste to depart, and many of the mixed multi- 
tudes that followed with us, remained there, and entered 
the service of the Emperor." 

Ingulfiis was surprised the following day in the midst 
of his studies, by a secret visit from Adela. 

" I am come," said she, " to obtain of thee, the precious 
thorn from the crown of our Lord." 

The countenance of Ingulfus indicated at once his re- 
luctance to part with the inestimable relic, and his strong 
desire to gratify the princess. 

" Nay," said she, observing his hesitation, " I know its 
value, and am prepared to reward thee at whatsoever cost." 

" Though it may have been the practice of some unwor- 
thy palmers, to trade in relics," said Ingulfus, " I cannot 
make merchandise of that which pierced the brow of my 
blessed Lord. It is thine without money, and without 
price." 



68 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

Tears of gratitude beamed in Adela's eyes. " Good 
father," she answered, " I know right well, that by reason 
of thy holiness thou art safe from sudden danger, and 
therefore thou canst not need this talisman as does thy un- 
worthy pupil ; yet it grieves me to take without recompense 
that which is so dear to thee. Is there no gift in the power 
of Adela which Ingulfus would accept ?" 

" Thy father hath sometime suggested," returned the 
friar, modestly, " that he would reward my poor services 
with a benefice. It would please me w^ell, to spend the 
few short days that remain unto me, in England. Near 
the monastery of Croyland was I born, and within the shel- 
ter of its walls would I die." 

" Trust me for the accomplishment of thy wislj," said 
Adela, bowing her head for his benediction. Then wrap- 
ping the holy thorn in a piece of silver tissue, and placing 
it in her bosom, she departed. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

" When thou shalt see an old man bent beneath 
The burden of his earthly punishment, 
Forgive him, Thalaba ! 
Yea, send a prayer to God in his behalf!" — Southet. 

INGULFUS' STORY, CONTINUED. 

Feom Constantinople we proceeded across the Bosphorus 
through Asia Minor. Our route was tedious in the extreme, 
and after we entered upon the territory of the Infidels, we 
were continually harassed by flying bands of Arabs ; so 
that many were slain, and some being driven from tlie 
main body were lost among the mountains, and M-e saw 
them no more. At length with much toil, the pilgrims 
reached the village of Capernaum, where being hardly 
beset by the robbers, they were constrained to tarry, until 



ADELA. 69 

they could obtain a sate escort from the Emir at Antioch. 
Howbeit I only relate these things as tliey were told n)e in 
Jerusalem; for a strange adventure separated me frt)m my 
fellows. There are two fountains, Jor and Dan, whicli flow- 
ing down from the inountain, are collected into one, and 
form the Jordan. When we passed them in our route, 1 
was consti'ained to linger aniong the shepherds, who fed 
their flocks in the green pastures which there abound, and 
several devout persons tarried witli n)e ; and on the mor- 
row, when we had taken our leave, we journeyed on, and 
straightway we came to the conflux of these streams, — and 
when we saw the Jordan, each man iiasted to divest him- 
self of his garments, that he might batiie in that stream, in 
which our blessed Loi'd was baptized. So occupied weie 
we with the holy ceremon}^ that we had not observed a 
band of Arabs, who assailed us witii a shower of stones and 
javelins, and separated us one from ant)ther. What far- 
ther passed I know not, for a blow upon the temple felled 
me to the ground, and deprived me of sense. 

When I unclosed my eyes, I thought myself among tlie 
fiends of hell ; and feeling for my crucifix, I found, myself 
wrapped in main' folds of fine cloth, in whicii I was firmly 
but gently bound. As my senses gradually retui'ued, ] 
began to note the things about me. The apartment seenieil 
a long, dark cavern, wlictse limits I could not distinguish, 
lighted by a fire at the farther extremity, round M-hich hall' 
clothed, swarthy figui-es were engaged in I'oasting pieces <»f 
flesh. Others of the same ap})earance were seated upon 
mats, with a cloth spread before them upon the ground, 
cutting the meat with long, crooked knives, or tearing it 
with their white pointed teeth, with savage voracity. A])art 
from the rest, seated upon an elevated cushion with his legs 
crossed, was a tall, strong-built man, with hair and beai'd 
white as snow, hanging over his shoulders, and down to his 
breast. He took no part with the revellers, but seemed to 
control by his look tlit-ir wild, gibbering talk, to the end 
that it might not disturb my slumbers; for through exces- 
sive faintness, I seemed only to exist between sleeping and 



60 HKKOIXES OF THE CKL'SADES. 

waking. His regards were fixed iipou me, and his appear- 
ance recalled a dim recollection which I was vainly striving 
to trace, when at a word from him, the whole band disap- 
peared behind an angle in the wall. The old man then 
lighted a torcb and approached me, carefully removed the 
bandage from my head, anointed my wound with sweet- 
smelling balm, and gave me to drink of a fiery liquid, 
which spread like an elixir through my veins, and seemed 
instantly to reanimate me. With a smile at my puzzled 
look, he plucked away the false beard and hair, and re- 
vealed to my astonished sight, the swarthy countenance of 
Hardrager. 

" Well met, holy father," said he, with his wonted laugh. 
" Hast come to bring a blessing to the habitation of Har- 
drager ?" 

" Is this thine habitation ?" said I. " Then I was not so 
far wrong in thinking myself in purgatory !" (for I was ill- 
pleased with the strange place and bad company.) " But 
by what fatal mischance came I hither ? Has the Saviour, 
for my sins, denied me at last the sight of his hol}^ sepul- 
chre ?" and I sank back in despair. 

" Nay," said Hardrager, " but for the mischance which 
thou deplorest, thou mightest indeed have been in purga- 
tory." 

" And where am I ?" eagerly inquired I. 

" Thou art in the strong-hold of the Old Man of the 
Mountain, and guarded by the assassin band of Mount 
Lebanon," replied he. 

" The saints preserve me !" said I, ejaculating a prayer. 

"In truth thou showest little gratitude," said Hardrager, 
" to one who hath saved thy life, (thanks to the good Hunga- 
rian steed that brought me to thy rescue). Knowest thou not 
the proverb? ' Speak well of the bridge that carried thee 
safe over I' " 

Finding from his words, but more especially from the 
seriousness of his manner, that this wild man had really 
uiidertaken to render me aii e^i^ential service, I began to 
regard him with more coniplaceiicy, and finally brought 



Al)ELA. 61 

myself to listen with interest to his story. Stung with re- 
morse for his agency in the death of the noble Saxons, 
Edwin and Waltheof, he had determined, as soon as his 
pilgrimage was accomplished, to join the Yarangians of 
Constantinople, and make perpetual war upon the conquer- 
ors of England. On his route through Syria, he fell in 
with a band of Arabs, wild and reckless like himself, who, 
scorning allegiance to any leader, had established them- 
selves among the ruined towers and rocky fortresses of 
Mount Lebanon, and thence carried on predatory warfare 
upon all who ventured to travel that way. They wore the 
Mohammedan garb, and observed some of the institutions of 
the Koran, but were followers of Ali, uncle of the prophet. 
The superior abilities and learning of Hardrager, enabled 
him soon to master their language and their tenets, and by 
the fortunate solution of some timely mysteries, he im- 
pressed them with the belief that he was the prophet of 
Allah, and soon brought them to take oath to obey all his 
requirements. But though he had thus apostatized from 
the faith of his fathers, he retained a copy of the New Tes- 
tament, and religiously fulfilled his vows at the holy sepul- 
chre, and with honesty worthy a better man continued his 
nightly flagellations. lie had instilled into his wild fol- 
lowers his own hatred of the Korman race, and it was be- 
cause of this that they fell upon us with such violence at 
the Jordan. I should have perished with my companions, 
for the Assassins were proceeding to rip open the bodies of 
the slain and wounded in search of coin, had not Hardrager 
recognized my Saxon countenance and interposed for my 
rescue. With the greatest care and tenderness, he had me 
conveyed in a litter to their nearest haunt, where, after pro- 
'acted insensibility, I found myself stretched upon the 
!Ortch of skins in the cavern. As soon as I was sufficiently 
•estored, he mounted me upon the good steed of the Mag- 
yar, which, being unable to walk, I was fain to ride, and 
accompanied me till we came in sight of the pilgrims en- 
camped upon the Mount of Olives, for by his messengers. 



62 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

Hardrager had intelligence of their movements, and con- 
ducted me bj the shortest route to join them. 

" Benedicite/holj father," said he, as he lifted me gently 
from the horse, and reverently inclined before me, " a 
blessing in the Saxon tongue would be health to my guilty 
soul." 

A tear glittered in his eye, and if it were a sin Heaven 
assoil me, for I yielded to his importunity and granted him 
the blessing. " Adieu, good friar," said he, " thou hast 
taken a load from my heart. Accept from the gratitude 
of Hardrager that which may stand thee instead, when thy 
fancied relics are of little avail." So saying, he gave me a 
small slip of parchment inscribed with Arabic characters, 
and rode slowly away, I thrust the scroll into my purse, 
little knowing its value, for my sight and sense were filled 
with Jerusalem, which I now saw for the first time. As I 
walked along the brow of Olivet, like my Saviour, I beheld 
the city and wej)t ov^er it, for the glory of Solomon's temple 
had departed ; the holy prophets and apostles had passed 
away, and bands of Infidels whose bright scimeters gleam- 
ed in the light of the setting sun dashed through her sacred 
streets, and encountered each other with barbarian clamor 
in her holy courts. The sound of the vesper-bell from the 
church of the Ascension invited us to prayer. With divine 
j'apture we pressed our lips upon the stone imprinted Avith 
the last footsteps of our Saviour, and with pious theft we 
gathered some of the sacred dust from before the altar. 

Descending from the mountain, we spent the night in 
fasting and prayer in the garden of Gethsemane, and at the 
first cock-crowing, arose to pass over the Brook Cedron. 
In the valley of Jehoshaphat we were met by the venerable 
patriarch, with the Latin and Syrian Christians of Jerusa- 
lem, who conducted us in solemn procession through the 
midst of the city to the church of the Holy Sepulchre. 

There, amid the clangor of cymbals, and the sweet 
sounds of psaltery and harp, we bowed in worship and 
adoration, while through the cloud of ascending incense 
streamed the effulgence of innuuierable lights, like the 



ADELA. 68 

Shechinali of the ancient temple, and Jesus Christ the in- 
habitant of the place, alone knew the sighs we breathed, 
the tears we shed, the prayers we offered, and the thanks- 
givings we uttered. 

Our vows were accomplished, and with the benediction 
of the patriarch upon us, we went forth, to climb the hill 
of Calvarj, to visit the pool of Bethesda, and to mourn 
over all the pleasant places which the followers of Moham- 
med have laid waste. There was one among us, who, for the 
sins he had committed, and the compunctions of conscience 
that he suffered, was desirous to yield up his soul at the 
tomb of the Saviour. 

This celebrated man, Fulk Earl of Anjou, had com- 
pelled two of his servants by an oath, to do whatsoever he 
commanded, and when we had completed our procession, 
and obtained absolution, he was by them dragged naked 
through the streets towards the Holy Sepulchre, one of 
them holding him by a twisted withe about his neck, the 
other, with a rod scourging his bare back, while the peni- 
tent cried out, " Lord, receive thy wretched Fulk, thy per- 
fidious, thy runagate — regard my repentant soul, oh Lord 
Jesus Christ." 

Howbeit he obtained not his request at that time. We 
were desirous to go down from Jerusalem to Jericho, to 
woi'ship at Gilgal, and view that sea, whose black waters 
roll over the cities of the plain ; but the w^ealth of the arch- 
bishops had been noised abroad, and the thieves that 
abound in those parts, fell upon all those who ventured 
that way, stripped and M'ounded them, and departed, leav- 
ing them to perish by the wayside. But our Norman bands 
accompanied by a party of Germans, arming themselves 
with swt)rds determined to visit the Church of the Nativity, 
at Bethlehem. We accomplished our purpose in safety, 
and were returning through the fields of the wood, when a 
band of mounted Saracens, with wild cries, dashed among 
us. Reluctantly, each man drew his sword and stood for 
his life. The attack fell heaviest upon the Normans, and 
despite our vigorous i-esistancc, we should, doubtless, all 



64 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

have perished beneath their javelins, had not the frantic 
gestures, and more especially the green turbans of our as- 
sailants, reminded me of the cave of Hardrager, and recall- 
ed his parting words. Hastily opening my purse, I held 
up the Arabic scroll, before the eyes of a barbarian, whose 
drawn scimeter was flashing above my head. 

At sight of it his demeanor instantly changed. He 
alighted, assisted me to rise, laid his hand upon his heart 
to express his concern for what had happened, and shout- 
ing, Allah ackbar, to his companions, drew them from 
their work of blood, and forthwith the flying band disap- 
peared. Kearly half our number were slain, and the rest 
of us wounded and disheartened, slowly retraced our steps 
to Jerusalem, and relinquished all attempts to visit the 
other holy places with which the vicinity abounds. Though 
the patriarch, and the monks of the various monasteries 
gave us hospitable entertainments, yet, such had been tlie 
length, the weariness and discouragements of the way, and 
such the thinning of our ranks by famine, fatigue, disease, 
and hostility, that we were fain to choose the readiest 
means of return. 

Learniug that a fleet of Genoese merchantmen were 
anchored in the harbor of Joppa, we determined to pur- 
chase a passage over seas with them. The archbishops, 
therefore, gathered the pilgrims together, and number- 
ed them, and of the seven thousand that had set out 
from Mentz, scarce three thousand remained ; and on 
our way from Jerusalem to the place of embarkation 
through the rocky defiles which are the favorite haunts 
of the barbarians, we estimated that another thousand 
perished. 

Our voyage to Brundusium was the most prosperous part 
of our journey. Thence we came to Rome ; where I showed 
my life to our holy father the pope, and was absolved of 
all that lay on my conscience, concerning many grievous 
jDoints, as men must needs have that travel in company 
with so many people of divers sects and beliefs. We then 
proceeded through Italy, and the archbishops took tlie ■ 



ADKLA. 65 



route to Germany ; tmd of our baud that left Nornuindy, 
thirtv well-appointed horsemen, twenty miserable palmers, 
only, repassed the Alps, and entered France on foot, ill, 
weary, and penniless ; and had not a kind Providence sent 
the noble Earls Robert and Stephen to our relief, we might 
at last have perished on the banks of the Eure. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Can piety the discord heal, 

Oi' stnneh the death-feud's enmity ? 

Can Christian lore, can patriot's zeal, 
Can love of blessed charity ? 

The year 1077 opened with great rejoicing in Normandy. 
The royal family were reunited for the last time, to cele- 
brate the marriage of Adela and Constance, with the 
wealthy and powerful husbands of the Conqueror's choice. 
The young Count and Countess of Blois, whose castles were 
numerous as the days in the year, determined to make a 
festive progress througli their dominions, and the Earl of 
Bretagne, with his biide, with their young sister, Gundred, 
and her undeclared lover, the Earl of Warrenne, joined the 
happy party. 

In the midst of ner happiness Adela did not forget her 
promise to InguUVs. The evening before her departure, 
she visited the cloister of the palmer, and acquainted him 
with his preferment to the Abbey of Croyland. The good 
friar's gratitude and pleasure were unbounded. 

" Holy father," said the countess, " I have yet one boon 
to crave." 

" Name it," said the priest. " If it lieth in my poor 
ability it shall not fail thee." 

" Because it lieth in thy power do I intrust it to thee," 
continued she. " The body of Earl Waltheof, the father of 
our much-injured Maude, is interred at the four cross-roads, 

5 



06 HEROIN KS OF THE CKL'iSADivS. 

without the gates of ^Vinchestel•; when tliuu takest pos- 
session of thy benefice, as soon as nia}^ be, thou wilt give 
him Christian burial, in the ehurch-jard of Croyland, and 
cause daily masses to be said for his soul." 

Ingulfus readily promised compliance. 

Adela still lingered. " The lovely Maude goes with thee 
to England. Thou wilt be compelled to marry her to 
Simon. Soften, as much as possible, her hard fate, and 
watch over her interests, and comfort her with thy coun- 
sels." 

" It shall be done," said Ingulfus, fervently. 

" Father, I would confess." 

And the young countess, in all her beauty and pride, 
knelt at the feet of the venerable man, and with the sim- 
plicity of a child, poured out her soul before him. 

As Adela had predicted, the Conqueror, on his return to 
England, took with him Maude, as the bride of Simon. 
Robei't sailed, also, in the same vessel, being commissioned 
by the king to establisii Simon, now Earl of Huntingdon, 
in his new possessions. 

William, too, accompanied his father, for he, more than 
any of the sons, comprehended the policy, and partook of 
the spirit of the Conqueror. 

The remaining years of the Queen Duchess Matilda, 
were passed in splendid solitude, in the royal palace at 
Bayeux. The early death of the princess Adeliza, the 
failing health of Constance, together with fresh dissensions 
in her family, pressed heavily upon her mind, and oc- 
casioned the lingering illness that slowly conducted her to 
the tomb. 

The loss of his beloved queen, and the undutifiil con- 
duct of his sons, aggravated the natural irritability and 
imperiousness of William, so that according to the English 
chroniclers, " He became, after her death, a thorough 
tyrant." He passed the four remaining years of his life in 
a constant succession of petty annoyances, and fruitless 
wars, with Philip of France. 



ADELA. 67 

111 the stately castle of Cbartrcs, sat the lovely Countess 
Adela ajiparently busy with embroidery, in that age almost 
the only home occupation of females. A shade of sadness 
was upon her brow, and an expression of anxious care in- 
dicated the mother's sympathy with the suffering child, that 
an attendant was vainly striving to soothe. 

" Draw the couch of the little William to my side, The- 
rese," said the countess, observing the tears in the girl's 
eyes. " Thou hast a tiresome task. Remove these frames," 
continued she to the maidens, " and go ye all to disport 
awhile in the pleasance, I will watch my boy's slumbers." 

The feeble child stretched his hands to his mother, and 
laying his head ujjon her breast sank quietly to sleep. 

" Poor suiiering one," soliloquized Adela, " thou knowest 
naught but thy mother's love. Already thy younger broth- 
ers despise thy imbecilitj- — the courtiers regard thee with 
indifference — and the very menials flout thee. No ducal 
coronet, or kingly crown will grace the head of my first- 
born." 

The sound of heavy steps in the corridor disturbed the 
slumberer. He lifted his head, moaned heavih', and re- 
garded with a vacant stare the warrior who entered. 

"Robert, n)y beloved brother!" exclaimed the countess, 
the joy of former times flitting across her countenance. 

With a njoody and dissatisfied air the duke returned the 
frank greeting of his sister, and throwing himself upon a 
seat by her side, said in a tone of ill-concealed impatience, 

" Adela, I have come to thee, for the prudent counsel of 
our mother dwells with thee. I am robbed of my rights 
and stripped of my heritage." 

" Art thou not Duke of Normandy," inquired his sister 
with surprise. 

"Aye, veril3^ Our father left me the duchy with a 
blessing that sounded marvellously like a curse. 'The 
dukedom of Normandy,' said he, 'I granted unto my son 
Robert, and having received the homage of his baronage, 
that honor given cannot be revoked : yet he is a foolish, 
proud knave, and will be punished with cruel fortune.' " 



68 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

"The saints preserve thee," said the countess with a look 
of alarm, " and England" — 

Robert interrupted.,—" 'Tis of that I would speak. The 
Conqueror bitterly bewailing the desolation and woe he 
had wrought in England, protested that he had so misused 
that fair and beautiful hind, that he dare not appoint a 
successor to it, but left the disposal of that matter in the 
hands of God." 

" Thou shouldst then have been king," said the Countess, 
" since God made thee his first-born." 

" So should I have been," said the duke, " but for the 
craft of William ; but while I tarried in German}^, little 
thinking that my father's illness would terminate so sud- 
denly, the red-haired usurper hastened over sea, and gain- 
ing Lanfranc to his interest secured the throne." 

" Always unready," sighed Adela. " And while the 
elder sons were thus employed, the young Henry watched 
by the bed of his dying father. Is it not so ?" 

" Small watching had the Conqueror's death-bed," said 
Robert, with something between a smile and a sneer. " The 
filial Beauclerk set ofl" to secure the treasures, and the at- 
tendants equally rajjacious and inhuman, plundered the 
house of all the money, plate, and precious furniture, and 
even stripped the person of the monarch. And after 
Herlwin had succeeded in convej'ing the body to the abbey 
of St. Stephen's, and they were about to place it in the 
grave, there stood forth an insolent noble, and forbade the 
interment. ' This spot,' said he, ' was the site of my 
father's house, which this dead duke took violently from 
him, and here upon part of my inheritance founded this 
church. This ground I therefore challenge, and charge ye 
all as ye shall answer it at the great and dreadful day of 
judgment, that ye lay not the bones of the destroyer on 
the hearth of my fathers.' And there, exposed to the 
jeers of the assembled multitudes, was the body forced to 
wait, while Henry drove a sharp bargain with the owner 
of the soil, and purchased leave of burial for the paltry 
sum of sixty shillings. Oh Adela !" said Robert, rising 



ADKLA. 69 

and striding throngli the apartment in extreme perturba- 
tion, " I am weary of tliis greatness which makes enemies 
of brothers, and j-ields one scarce a grave at last." 

The head of the countess was bent low over her sleeping 
child : and the duke continued, "I sometimes wish I were 
an eremite, and unless thy clear wit can devise some expe- 
dient by which I can obtain my rightful inheritance, and 
chastise the vanity of this jDresumptuous Rufus, I am re- 
solved upon a pilgrimage." 

" Tiiou saidst Lanfranc assisted William : our uncle Odo 
hates Lanfranc," said Adela. 

Robert caught at the suggestion. " My sister, I thank 
thee," he exclaimed eagerly. " Thou hast made me king. 
I will to Normandy, and summon my trusty squires to 
council. Simon of Huntingdon, Hugh of Norfolk, and 
William of Durham, are already disaffected and ready for 
revolt. Odo shall head the conspiracy in England." 

Full of his new project the duke hurried away, scarce- 
ly waiting for the pecuniary aid, with which the countess, 
who knew the impoverished state of his finances, hastened 
to furnish him. 

The well- concerted scheme of the conspirators failed, 
through the characteristic indolence and procrastination of 
Robert. Odo effected an inglorious escape from England, 
and the rebel earls gladlj^ made terms with the king. 
Many of the insurgents repaired to Normandy, and suffered 
the confiscation of their estates ; and while the Countess of 
Blois daily expected a summons to attend Robert's corona- 
tion, she was surprised by intelligence that William had 
crossed the sea with a numerous army, and by menaces, 
bribery or fraud, had obtained possession, of almost every 
fortress, on the right bank of the Seine. 

The barons who held lands under both brothers, labored 
to effect a reconciliation through the mediation of the 
French monarch. 

Robert still reckoning upon the liberal aid of his sister 
and her wealthy lord, resisted all overtures of peace ; but 



70 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 1 

Adela comprehending the hopeless defect of a character, 
that not even a crown could stimulate to promptitude, per- 
suaded him to accept the terms of the treaty, J 

As the splendid cortege attendant upon the Countess of 
Blois, and her young sons Thibaut, Stephen and Henry, 
swept along the great road from Chartres to Blois, the 
green arcades of a beautiful grove stretching down to the 
brink of a small stream that rolled its clear waters to the 
Loire, invited them to rest during the noontide hours. 
With loosened rein the steeds wandered at will cropf*ing 
the tender herbage, or slaked their thirst in the rippling 
brook ; while reposing upon the greensward, the party 
made a refreshing repast. The children, left to the unre- 
strained indulgence of their boyish glee, gathered wild 
flowers for their mother, hallooed to the echoes of the wood, 
or pursued each other along the banks of the stream. 

Allured by the sound of their happy voices, the countess 
left the company and stole after them, catching occasional 
glimpes of their dancing plumes, as they bounded on before 
her, till coming to an opening in the glen, she stopped be- 
fore an antique crucifix that some pious hand had reared 
upon the verge of a fountain. Occupied with the sweet \ 
thoughts suggested by the place, slie scarcely noted the ab- 
sence of her children, till the little Henry, pulling lier by 
the robe exclaimed with a face all radiant with joy, "This 
way ma mere, Thibaut says we've found a hermit's cell, and 
Stephen is talking with the hermit." Yielding to his im- 
petuosity the countess hastened forward and discovered 
sitting at the entrance of a sylvan lodge, just where the 
shadow of the cross fell longest at sunset, a youthful saint, 
if saint he was, reading his breviary, and telling his beads 
Avith affected sanctity. 

" Beauclerk !"' said the countess after a scrutinizing gaze 
at his half-concealed features. 

" Thou knowest me then," said the pretended monk, in 
a t"»ne of bitter reproach, rising and throwing off his gray 



ADELA. 71 

friar's gown and cowl. '' I thought myself forgotten by all 
my father's house." 

" 'Tis our uncle Henry," said Thibaut, amazed and cha- 
grined at this transformation of his newly discovered her- 
mit. 

" And hast thou then doubted tlie affection of Adela ?" 
said his sister, 

" It were not strange that I should doubt the love of cue 
leagued with my foes," replied the prince sorrowfully. 

" How leagued with thy foes V inquired the countess in 
great surprise. 

"Thou surely dost not mock me," said Henry marking 
the tears trembling on her eyelids. "Thy countenance be- 
speaks thy sincerity. Have I then been the dupe, as well 
as the prey of my designing brothers ?" 

" If thou hast distrusted the love of Adela, yes," replied 
his sister, " but come thou with me. My lord awaits us at 
the castle of Blois. He shall investigate thy cause and re- 
dress thy wrongs." 

" Come with us, dear uncle," reiterated the children ob- 
serving his hesitation. 

" Yield thyself, rescue or no rescue," said the young 
Stephen balancing a stick as a lance, and leading off the 
prince in triumph. 

" And hast thou not heard of the siege of St. Michael's 
Mount?" said Henry as he rode by the side of his sister, at 
the head of the cavalcade. 

" A passing rumor, and nnich I fear me, purposely per- 
verted to restrain my interference, was all that reached 
me," replied Adela. " Tell me all." 

" Thou knowest," continued Henry, " that by the will of 
our father, the duchy of Normandy fell to Robert, and the 
rich heritage of England was given to William. Henrv 
had neither patrimony nor domains, some small treasure 
was all my share. This I gave to Eobert in the hour of his 
need, for the lands of Cotentin, and then passed into Eng- 
land, to secure the dower of my mother. On my return, 
the prodigal having squandered the moneys received from 



72 HEiiOlNKS oF THE CRUSADES. 

me, seized and confined nie in one uf his fortresses. When 
Normandy was invaded, he released me from my imprison- 
ment, and I did him g-ood service in compelling William 
to raise the siege of Ronen, In the treaty to which thou 
didst persuade Robert, I \vas the principal sufferer, and 
therefore" — added he with warmth, " did I deem that the 
guileful duke, had stolen into the sanctuary of my sister's 
affections, and robbed me of thy love, my choicest treasure." 

"My much-injured brother," said the countess, affection- 
ately, "I knew not that thy interest was involved, else 
I had given far different counsel. But proceed w^ith the 
story of thy wrongs," 

" My traitor brothers united like Pilate and Herod of 
old," proceeded Henry, with increasing asperity, " seized 
my castles in Cotenten, and dogged my steps like sleuth- 
hounds on the track, till I took refuge in Mt, St. Michael, 
wher^ the friendly tides kejit them at bay ; and there I had 
perished with thirst, had not Robert's tardy compassion 
ministered to my necessity, and finally efiected my release. 
Since then, I have wandered a fugitive and an outcast, 
craving scant hospitality of my brother's vassals, and solac- 
ing my weary hours with clerkly studies." 

" Courage, my good brother," said Adela, with enthusi- 
asm. "Thou shalt wander no more. Count Stephen will 
put thee in the way to mend thy fortunes ; and, perchance, 
thou wilt one day inherit the proud fiefs of botli thy 
brothers. See ! yonder gleams the spires of Blois. But 
what knightly train proceeds up the broad avenue of the 
castle. Listen ! The warder sounds his bugle blast, and 
the drawbridge is lowered. Put thy horse to his met- 
tle ; these laggards may follow at their leisure." So say- 
ing the countess and her brother dashed forward, and en- 
tered the court-yard just as the retinue of the Duke of Nor- 
mandy wound up the staircase, leading to the great hall. 

At sight of Robert, Henry's eye flashed, and wdth an in- 
dignant gesture he turned to dej^art, but Adela, with a 
determined air, laid her hand upon his arm. "Remain," 
said she, " that portcullis bars all egress from the castle, 



ADELA. 73 

and jon. proud duke shall not escape till he has done 
thee ample justice." 

Earl Stephen gave a cordial welcome to Robert, and 
greeted his countess with much affection, but the entrance 
of Henrj threw him into evident perturbation, nor did it re- 
lieve his embarrassment to see his wife, with characteristic 
heroism, advance between the rival brothers, and fix her 
flashing eyes upon Robert. 

The noble conduct of the repentant duke happily avert- 
ed the gathering storm. 

"Spare thy reproaches, sweet sister," said he, "and 
thou, my brother, forgive the grievous injuries thou hast 
suffered, and accept the only reparation that lieth in my 
power. I restore unto thee Cotentdn, and would but for 
my poverty indemnify thee for thy losses. I have deter- 
mined on a visit to the Holy Land ; and I would dispose 
my worldly affairs, so that should I never return, man shall 
not accuse me before the throne of God." 

The frankness of his confession, and the seriousness of 
his manner, allayed the resentment of Henry, and effected 
an apparent reconciliation. Harmony being thus restored, 
Robert proceeded at proper intervals to unfold the desires 
and purposes tliat had brought him once again to counsel 
with Adela. 

Since the treaty which confirmed William in the sov- 
ereignty of England, not only, but secured to him several 
strong fortresses in Normandy, the duke had resigned 
himself to listlessncss and luxury. In his aimless expedi- 
tions his attention liad been frequently attracted by the 
appearance of a monk, who embodied in himself the spirit 
of a hermit, a pilgrim, and a soldier. His head was bare, 
his feet naked. His diminutive figure, attenuated by 
frequent abstinence, was wrapped in a coarse garment. 
His prayers were long and fervent, and the enthusiasm 
that gleamed in his eyes kindled the fires of holy zeal, in 
every town, village, and hamlet through which he passed. 
As he rode along, every street and highway was thronged 
with people, wlio worshipped the weighty crucifix he bore 



74 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

aloft, and listened with sighs and tears, while he depicted the 
sufferings of the Christians of Palestine, and with loud and 
frequent appeals to Christ and the holy mother, challenged 
the warriors of the age to defend their brethren, and rescue 
the tomb of the Saviour from the dominion of Infidels. 

Robert's curiosity was excited. He joined the eager 
crowds that followed the steps of the monk, and listened 
to the thrilling words till the latent desire of pilgrimage 
that had long slumbered in his mind awoke to life and 
activity, and he became a convert to the preachings of 
Peter the Hermit. But while he hesitated at the palmer's 
gown and staif, the united voices of chivalry and religion, 
bade him don his armor and draw his sword. 

In the general council of the church, at Placentia, the am- 
bassadors of the Greek Emperor Alexius Comnenus had por- 
trayed the distress of their sovereign, and the danger of 
Constantinople, from the victorious Turks. The sad tales 
of the misery and perils of the eastern brethren, drew tears 
from the assembly, and several champions declared their 
readiness to march to the East. 

The Greeks were dismissed with assurances of speedy 
and powerful succor. Pope Urban had given his sanction 
to the scheme, and summoned a second council to meet in 
Clermont the following November, to confer upon measures 
for sending armed forces into Asia. 

It was to secure the concurrence of Adela, and the co- 
operation of Stephen, that Robert now came to Blois. 

The representations of her brother, and the subject of his 
discourse renewed, in the memory of Adela, the fancy 
sketches of her childhood, and called u]3 the half- formed 
purposes of her early youth. AYith the clear-sightedness 
peculiar to her character, she scanned the wide field thus 
opened to ambition, balanced the possible with the imprac- 
ticable, determined for her brother the only course that 
would give free scope to his knightly abilities, and covet- 
ing for her husband a share in the glorious enterprise, per- 
suaded him to embrace the scheme, and thus rendered her- 
self really tlie " Heroine of the First Crusade.'''^ 



ADELA. 75 



CHAPTER X. 

" OuwarJ tlioy came, a dark continuous cloud 
Of congregated myriads uuiuberless." 

"To dispose of his worldly affairs so that man might not 
accuse him before the throne of God," was a more serious 
and protracted work than the Duke of Normandy had an- 
ticipated. The patience of Stephen was in consequence 
nearly exhausted, in waiting his preparations, and it was 
not till the council of Clermont had been several days in 
session, that the nobles entered the district of Auvergne. 
As they approached the place of meeting, the highways 
w^ere thronged by the eager crowxls that flocked towards 
the city ; and all the plains as far as the eye could reach, 
\vere dotted with tents and booths, that afforded tempo- 
rary shelter for the thousands that could not find accommo- 
dation in the town. 

On the morning of the eighth day, at an early hour, the 
reverend clergy, with the pope at their head, ascended a 
wooden pulpit, erected in the midst of the concourse, and 
declared to them the decrees of the synod, concerning the 
various matters at that time agitating the church. But ec- 
clesiastical decisions and local interests Avere lost in the ab- 
sorbing theme that occupied every heart. The blessing of 
Heaven was invoked upon their deliberations ; and a still- 
ness fell upon the waiting multitudes, like the husli of 
winds before the mighty storm, while the Monk of Amiens 
in a voice of persuasive eloquence and j^ower, told them how 
terrrible were the sufferings of their brethren in the East, 
and how burdensome was the tribute exacted by the inhu- 
man Mussulmans. He stated that lodging in the house of 
Simon, the patriarch of Jerusalem, he had become an eye- 
witness of these enormities, and had been commissioned to 
invite all tlie princes of the West, to contribute towards 
their remedy ; that on a certain day filled with grief, he had 



76 HEROINES OF TIIK CRCSADES. 

entered the church of the Kesurrection, and given himself 
to prayer, till at length sinking upon the cold stone pave- 
ment, there had breathed upon his senses, — first a soft strain 
like a shepherd's flute, swelling into a heavenly harmony, 
such as the advent angels sung, and then, triumphant an- 
thems deepening into the trumpet's thunder tone, and the 
discordant clash of armor ; that like Elijah of old he had 
afterwards heard a still small voice, saying, " Arise, Peter, 
make haste and fulfil without fear, what I have enjoined 
upon thee ; for I will be with tliee. It is time for the holy 
places to be purified, and for my servants to be succored in 
their distress ;" that immediately after the seraphic vision 
had beamed upon his sight, the brightness of the light 
awoke him ; when he beheld lying upon the altar a letter 
containing the words of the Saviour ; and his own pilgrim's 
stafi' transformed into a sword. 

The Hermit ceased ; and held up tlie miraculous scroll 
before the eyes of all the people. A wailing swept over 
the vast throng, and the wliole multitude bowed, as the 
forest bends before the first rush of the tempest. 

Seizing upon the favorable moment, the pontiif arose 
and addressed the assembly. " My brethren and dearest 
children, whether kings, princes, marquises, counts, barons, 
or knights, all you who have been redeemed by the bodily 
passion, and shedding of the blood of our Lord Jesus 
Christ, hear the complaints of God himself, which are ad- 
dressed to you concerning the wrongs and unlooked-for in- 
juries, which have been done to him in Asia, where sprang 
the first germs of our faith, where the Apostles suffered 
martyrdom, and where at the present day, the persecuted 
christians with stifled sighs, long for a participation in your 
liberties. Have compassion upon your brethren that dwell 
in Jerusalem, and in the coasts thereof, — check the inso- 
lence of the barbarians, and you will be extolled through- 
out all ages — let your zeal in the expedition atone for the 
rapine, theft, homicide, licentiousness, and deeds of incen- 
diarism, by which you have provoked the Lord to anger, — 
turn against the enemies of Clirist those weapons, which 



A DEL A. 77 

jouliave hitherto stained with blood, in battles and tourna- 
ments against yourselves. To those present, I command 
this ; to those absent, I enjoin it. For ourselves we will 
trust in the mercy of the Almighty God, and in virtue of 
the power He has given us, and by the authority of the 
blessed Apostles, Peter and Paul, we absolve all who en- 
gage in this holy war, from all the offences which they 
shall repent in their hearts, and with their lips confess, and 
in the retribution of the just we promise to the same an 
increased portion of eternal salvation. And this forgive- 
ness shall extend also to those who contribute by their sub- 
stance or counsel to its success. Go then, brave soldiers, 
and secure to yourselves fame throughout the world. God 
will accom^^any you on your march — the season of the 
year be propitious, both by the abundance of fruits, and by 
the serenity of the elements. Those who shall die, will sit 
down in the Heavenly guest-chamber, and those who sur- 
vive will set their eyes on the Saviour's sepulchre. Happy 
are they who are called to this expedition, that they may 
see the holy places in which our Lord conversed with man, 
and where to save them he was born, crucified, died ; — 
was buried and rose again. Take then the road before you 
in expiation of your sins, and go assured that after the 
honors of this world have passed away, imperishable glory 
shall await yon, even in the kingdom of Heaven." 

Loud shouts of ' God wills it,' ' God wills it,' pronounced 
simultaneously in all the different dialects, and languages, 
spoken by the nations of which the multitude was com- 
posed, for a moment interrupted the prelate. Command- 
ing silence by a motion of the hand, he resumed. 

" Dear brethren, to-day is shown forth in you, that which 
the Lord has said by his evangelist, ' When two or three 
shall be assembled in my name, there shall I be in the 
midst of them.' For if the Lord God had not been in your 
souls you would not all have pronounced the same words, 
or rather God himself pronounced them by your lips, for it 
was He who put them in your hearts. Be they then your 
war-cry in the combat, for those words came forth from 



78 HEROINES OF 'i'llK ClUiSADKS 

God, Let the army of the Lord when it rushes upon his 
enemies, shout but that one cry, ' Deus valt,' ' Deus vult.' 
Oh brave knights ! remember the virtues of your ancestors ; 
and if you feel held back from the course before you, by 
the soft ties of wives, of children, of parents, call to mind 
the words of our Lord himself, ' Whosoever loveth father 
or motlier more than me is not w^orthy of me. Whosoever 
shall abandon for my name's sake, his house, or his breth- 
ren, or his sisters, or his father, or his mother, or his wife, 
or his children, or his lands, shall receive an hundred fold, 
and shall inherit eternal life.' Gird yourselves then, my 
brave warriors, for the battle, and let him wdio is ready to 
march, bear the holy cross of the Lord upon his shoulders, 
in memory of that precept of the Saviour, ' He who does 
not take up his cross and follow me, is not worthy of me.'" 
The agony of conflicting emotions that shook the assem- 
bled throngs, burst forth in a storm of sighs, groans, and 
tears, and as the trees of the forest fall prostrate in the 
blast, the agitated multitudes sank upon their knees, smote 
their breasts in sorrow, poured forth their confessions, and 
consecrated their persons and their property to the Holy 
Crusade. 



CHAPTER IX. 

" There the wild Crusaders form, 
There assembled Europe stands, 
Heavea they deem awakes the storm, 

Hell the paynims' blood demands." Carlyle. 

The results of the counci] of Clermont were speedily felt 
throughout Europe. No nation was so remote, no people 
so retired, but, gaining the intelligence by common rumor, 
or miraculous revelation, commenced preparations for the 
mighty enterprise. 

The Welshman forsook his hunting, — the Scot his native 



ADKLA. 79 

mountuins, — the Dane fui'i^ot his wassail-bowl, — the IsTor- 
wegian left his fishing-tackle on the sand. Whatever was 
stored in granaries or hoarded in chambers, to answer the 
hopes of the avaricious husbandman, or the covetousness 
of the miser, all was deserted, or bartered for military 
equipments. 

" Zeal and sympathy, and indignation and chivalrous 
feeling, and the thirst for glory, and the passion for enter- 
prise, and a thousand vague, but great and noble aspira- 
tions, mingled in the comj^licated motive of the Crusade. 
It increased by contagion — it grew by communion — it 
spread from house to house — and from bosom to bosom — it 
became a universal desire — an enthusiasm — a passion — a 
madness." 

Princes labored like peasants at the forge or in the ar- 
mory. High-born dames abandoned their embroidery, and 
employed their delicate fingers in fabricating garments for 
the retainers of their lords. 

The Countess of Blois laid aside the famous Bayeux 
tapestry, which her mother had left for her completion, and 
accompanied her husband from castle to castle, through 
all their wide domains, presiding over the labors of her 
maidens, while with pious zeal they stitched the red cross 
upon the surcoats of the warriors. 

Robert pledged his ducal domains to the grasping Eufus, 
for a sum of money scarcely sufficient to meet the expenses 
of the expedition ; and Edgar Atheling bestowing his or- 
phan nieces in th<s nunnery of Wilton, joined the train of 
his friend. 

Godfrey, Duke of Lorraine, a prince of the royal house of 
France, assembled his followers, from the banks of the Rhine 
to the Elbe ; Raimond of Toulouse, and Adhemar, bishop of 
Puy, called the Moses and Aaron of the host, collected the 
Goths and Gascons, and all the mingled j^eople between the 
Pyrenees and the Alps ; Bohemond of Apulia commanded 
the tribes from the Tuscan sea to the Adriatic, while volun- 
teers from all parts of Europe flocked to the standards of 
these noble leaders, or joined the band of the Hermit himself. 



80 HEROINES OY THE CRUSADKS. 

The long-looked-ior tiino was now at hand, when the 
hoaiy garb of winter being laid aside, the world clad in 
vernal bloom, invited the pilgrims to the confines of the 
East. And in the beginning of March, 1097, the masses 
of European population began to roll. The first band that 
swept on through Germany into Hungary consisted of 
twenty thousand footmen, marshalled under Walter the 
Penniless. Then followed Peter the Hermit, with forty 
thousand men, women and children, l^ext a German 
priest headed fifteen thousand enthusiasts, and another 
band of two hundred thousand unarmed and disorderly 
people hurried on by the same path ; and ere these despe- 
rate adventurers had reached the borders of the Grecian 
Empire, Em-ope glittered with mustering hosts of warriors 
arrayed in all the jjomp and splendor of chivalry, and led 
by the greatest w^arriors of the age. 

Few chieftains brought so many soldiers to the standard 
of the cross as Stephen, Count of Blois and Chartres. But 
notwithstanding the precipitate zeal of Robert, and the 
prompt and politic measures of Adela, the summer was 
wasted in idle delays ; and it was not till the autumnal 
equinox that these distinguished nobles joined the forces of 
Hugh, Count of Yermandois, and crossed the Alps, intend- 
ing to proceed by sea to the Hol}^ Laud. They found Pope 
Urban at Lucca, and received from him the standard of St. 
Peter. The autumn was passed in the gaiety and dissipa- 
tion of Italy, M'here the earls disposed their troops for win- 
ter-quarters. Count Stephen returned once more to Blois, 
already dissatisfied with the j^rospects of the expedition. 
In the ensuing spring, one year after the time designated 
by the pope, with Robert and Hugh, and their united 
forces, the husband of Adela embarked for Palestine. In 
the meantime numbers, disaffected by the first encounter- 
ing of difficulties, returned to claim subsistence from the 
bounty of the Countess of Blois. 

" Methinks, my beneficent sister," said Henry, observing 
her charity towards the miserable wretches, " if thou hadst 
seen yon beggars sell their flocks and herds for a few shil- 



ADELA. 81 

lings, thou wouldst be better inclined to laugh at their 
folly than" relieve their poverty." 

" Adela counts it not folly for a man to sell all he hath 
for the kingdom of Heaven's sake." 

" I fancy," said Henry, laughing, '* that those self-sacri- 
ficers have an eye to the ' manifold more in this life,' rather 
than to the heavenly inheritance ; and some^ I trow, under- 
stand by the kingdom of heaven, a principality in Pales- 
tine." 

" And were not the establishment of Christian powers in 
Asia a worthy purpose ?" returned Adela, little pleased at 
her brother's insinuations. 

" Certes, my beloved sister. But wherefore didst thou de- 
tain thy unworthy Beauclerk, is there not kingdom or duchy 
for him ?" 

" Nay ! I scarcely claim the merit of detaining thee," 
said Adela, " since I suspect that a stronger tie than com- 
passion for my lone estate has withheld thee." 

" That a tender interest in the declining health of the 
Red King somewhat influenced my decision I cannot 
deny," replied Plenry, evasively. 

" And had the superlative beeuty of the Red King's 
ward no influence?" said Adela, pressing her advantage. 

"Nay, sister, since thou divinest my secret," said Heiwy, 
frankly, " I will e'en tell thee all. Perceiving that tliy 
crusades would draw from the Norman power its military 
strength, I deemed it wise, in case of my brother's death, 
to entrench mysejf in the aftections of the English people, 
by uniting my personal interest with the Saxon race. Ac- 
cordingly, when Robert sent me to England to negotiate 
the mortgage of his duchy with Rufus, I visited the nun- 
nery of Wilton, with Edgar Atheling." 

" And thou sawest there the fair novice, Matilda," in- 
terrupted Adela. 

" Call her not novice, she scorns the name, and hath a 
spirit like a queen. In presence of her uncle the Atheling, 
she tore the hateful veil from her head, and trampled it 
under her feet." 

6 



82 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

" And did the spirited damsel smile upon thy suit ?" 

" I proffered no suit save to her uncle." 

" And what said the Atheling to thy visionary scheme ?" 

" He promised to give her to me with his blessing, on 
his return from the crusade." 

" But here comes another son of Cushi, with tidings for 
the Countess of Blois. Judging from his tattered garments, 
and limping gait, his story must eclipse all that have gone 
before. My '' visianary schemes' shall not claim the atten- 
tion that should be devoted to this magnificent eastern am- 
bassador ;" and with a smile of irony Henry took his de- 
parture. 

The appearance of the individual who entered the pres- 
ence of Adela, and the tidings he brought, fully justified 
the sarcastic conjectures of Henr3^ He M'as a refugee from 
the party of Walter the Penniless, a band whose only rec- 
ommendation for the Holy war was their poverty. Before 
setting out, each one was searched, and the man upon 
whose jjerson was found the sum of two sous, was hooted 
from the camp. Animated by a blind fanaticism, they ex- 
pected that rivers would be opened for their passage ; that 
flesh would be miraculously supplied ; manna rained from 
heaven upon them, and the smitten rock send forth its 
cooling stream. The hospitality of the Hungarians con- 
firmed their faith ; but when they entered the kingdom of 
Bulgaria, the illusion vanished, and the famine-stricken 
multitudes, abandoning their presumptuous trust in heaven, 
resorted to carnage and plunder. The exasperated inhabi- 
tants fell upon them without fear or mercy. Many were 
slain, numbers fled to the forests, and a remnant of the dis- 
appointed devotees attempted to retrace their steps to their 
own land. 

After listening to the account of the miserable fugitive, 
Adela remarked, that the misfortunes of the company 
doubtless proceeded from their forgetfulness of the last 
directions of the Saviour : " Pie that hath a purse let him 
take it, and likewise his scrip, and he that liatli no sword 
let him sell his a'arment and buv one." 



ADKLA. 83 

" Ah, lady !" said the wretched fanatic, " think not that 
our misfortunes arose from our want of money or arms, Lut 
rather through our impatience to be gone, that led us to set 
out on Friday, instead of waiting for the holy rest of the 
Sabbath." 

The countess was residing with her family in Troyes, 
when she gave audience to another of her " eastern ambas- 
sadors," as Henry jocosely called them. 

This man arrived at nightfall, on a sorry mule, the self- 
same animal that a few months before, under Peter the 
Hermit, had led greater hosts to battle than Bucephalus 
under Alexander, and which had enjoyed such a reputation 
for sanctity that even his very hairs were devoutly treasur- 
ed as relics. Now, jaded and dispirited, with drooping 
head and pendant ears, the poor beast slowly paced his 
heavy way up to the gates of the castle. His rider seemed 
no less bowed with grief and fatigue, and wearily dismount- 
ing, he meekly waited among the servants, till summoned 
to the presence of his mistress. 

" You behold, noble lady," said he, " one of those indi- 
viduals whose fate it is to bring ruin upon every expedition 
in which he embarks." 

" Miserable man," exclaimed Adela, " hast thou betray- 
ed the army of the Lord ?" 

" God forbid that I should have been guilty of so foul a 
deed," said the pilgrim, devoutly crossing himself ; "but 
the curse of Jonah rests upon me. Evil was the day when, 
impoverished by the wars of Duke Robert, I plundered the 
sacred vessels of a church, and melted and sold them, to 
obtain food for my starving family. The crime lay heavy 
on my conscience, and to expiate its guilt I joined the band 
of the Hermit. But my sinful love for my children pre- 
vailed over my devotion, and Satan tempted me with the 
thought, that were they permitted to accompany me, they 
at least might -win the crown of martyrdom, tliough tlieir 
father should suffer the punishment of his sins. With 
much difficulty and hvlioi-, wo scraped together means to 
purclias.e a yoke of ox'ju uiul a cart, and the charity of my 



84 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

noble countess (heaven reward thee) provided raiment for 
mj poor old father and helpless infants. Heaven pardon 
me, but my wicked heart was inflated with pride, as seat- 
ing my precious ones in the vehicle, I walked by their side ; 
and pleased was I as we reached any town or city, to hear 
the little ones inquire, if that were Jerusalem. Fool that 
I was not to remember the Saviour's words, ' He that for- 
saketh not all that he hath, cannot be my disciple.' There 
were many who, falling into the same error, cumbered the 
train with useless baggage, and many feeble and sick, both 
men and women, caused that our route was tedious and 
slow. The heat of summer came on, and the weariness of 
the way seemed to increase. My children forgot their in- 
nocent prattle, and stretched their tender limbs upon the 
floor of the cart. The old man, my father, slept, and we 
could not wake him ; and my wife gave me the infant from 
her breast — it was dead — and we buried them by the way- 
side. This was the beginning of sorrows. But the horrors 
of my crime flashed upon me, when certain sons of Belial 
among our company, set fire to the houses, and commenced 
to plunder the people through whose villages we passed. 
The inhabitants armed against us, and I shudder to describe 
the bloody scenes which followed. Enraged at the wanton 
attack, they rushed out upon us, fell upon the rear of the 
army, glutted their wrath with the blood of all that opposed 
them, and destroyed that part of the multitude whom weak- 
ness left without defence. My wife and sons fell victims 
to their fury, and Therese, my lovely daughter, was torn 
shrieking from my arms, and carried away by a brutal 
ruflian." 

" Unhappy Therese," said Adela, dropping a tear. " My 
poor "William has pined for his patient nurse." 

"In the extremity of my desperation," continued the 
pilgrim, " I rushed into the thickest of the fight, and sought 
for death ; but in vain. My crimes were too great, and I 
was reserved to mourn the loss of those for whose dear 
sakes I had perilled my soul. 

" Deploring the ruin that my sins, and the sins of such as 



ADELA. 85 

me had brought upon the holy pilgrims, I determined to 
hide myself in a convent, and seek by a life of penance, 
the pardon I hoj^ed to have found at the Saviour's tomb ; 
and finding the deserted mule of our leader, wandering 
upon the border of a marsh, I mounted upon his back, and 
begged my way hither." 

The countess gave him money for the remainder of his 
journey, to the monastery of Caen, and with a heavy heart 
dismissed him. 

A German monk of great sanctity resided in a solitary 
cell in the forest of Troyes. The fame of cures, effected by 
him, through the medium of invisible agents, led the 
countess to consult him with I'egard to her invalid son. 
Thibaut and Stephen, with a small train, accompanied her 
to the hermitage. 

On their return their way was obstructed by a crowd, 
collected about a grotesque-looking figure clothed partly 
in armor, and partly in priestly robes. His head was or- 
namented with a cap like that of a merry- Andrew, at the 
top of which flourished a feather cut in the form of a cross. 
From his shoulders hung numerous thongs, to which were 
attached boxes and bags of various colors and dimensions, 
and a rosary of small human bones was suspended about 
his neck. This he occasionally shook with demoniac glee, 
as an accompaniment to songs, whose sentiment strangely 
alternated between piety and profanity. 

"News from Ihe wars," shouted he approaching the 
cavalcade. 

"Holy relics for sinners all, 
The thumb of St. Peter, the tooth of St. Paul." 

"Yea more — Babylon has fallen — the Jews, the Jews — 
Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, are consumed in the 
burning fiery furnace — Ha ! ha ! How the flames crack- 
led and sparkled — How the Long-beards winced and writhed 
— Ashes I Ashes !" said he, tlirowing the contents of one 
of tbe l)uxe6 into the faces of the spectators — " Yea uiure — 



86 HEKOINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

" The crusaders followed the spirit divine, 
And water and blood it turned into wine ; 
That made us strong for the slaughter. 

Drink — lieal — wassail," — and he poured from a bottle a 
noisome liquid, from whicli the crowd shrank back in dis- 
gust, 

"The demons shrieked in the forest— and the little fiends 
winked in the marshes — they showed us the way to the 
holy sepulchre — bridges of corpses — rusty armor — glaring 
eyeballs. How the wolves howled on our track — and the 
black ravens croaked over the djdng — 'Twas rare sport to 
liear them groan. 

" The goat led his followers up the steep rock, 
The goose flapped her wings, and headed the flock; 
List to the sound of the martyrs' bones ■" 

and the lunatic broke into a wnld fantastic dance, rattling 
his boxes and shaking his horrid rosary with demoniac 
frenzy. 

The countess was here relieved from her involuntary at- 
tendance upon the frightful exhibition, by the approach 
of Prince Henry, who having consigned the madman to 
proper care, dispersed the crowd, and permitted the train 
proceed. 

In repl}' to Adela's anxioiis inquiries, he informed her 
that the miserable creature whom she had seen, had be- 
longed to a mad-rabble, that set oflf for the Holy Land 
Avithout leader or guide, held together only by the strange 
infatuation of adoring a goat and a goose, which they be- 
lieved to be filled with the divine S23irit. 

Their malignant zeal was directed princijDally against 
the Jews, whom they exterminated wherever they came. 
The Hungarians denied them a passage through the conn- 
try. The fanatics attempted to force their way across the 
Danube. The nation rose to arms, and for several days 
smote them with such slaughter, that the fields were strewed 
with the slain, and the very waters of the river were hidden 
by the multitude of the corjjses. 



ADELA. 87 

" Heaven punished their impiety with a loss of reason," 
said Adela, with a sigh. 

" Their impiety began with a loss of reason," said Henry, 
drily. " Thy pardon, sweet sister, but the heralds of thy 
grain! expedition and the tidings they bear, remind one of 
tlie evil messengers of Job, each man having escaped alone 
to tell thee." 

" We have as yet gained intelligence only from the ill- 
appointed and barbarous hordes that encumbered rather 
than aided the expedition. When we shall receive news 
from warriors, whose heroic courage executes the plans of 
temperate wisdom, I trust that the disasters of our foes 
will form the theme of conversation," said Adela, with 
much spirit. 

"Nay, I meant not to vex thee," returned Henry, sooth- 
ingly, " and to prove my desire of peace, I have brought 
with me a flag of truce," and he handed her a letter from 
her husband. 

Adela's letter from Stephen contained the most gratify- 
ing intelligence. Completely duped by the artful policy 
of Alexius, the count gave a glowing description of his re- 
ception at Constantinople, and the splendid ceremony by 
Avhich the Latin chiefs did homage to the Greek Emperor, 
for the cities they hoped to win in Palestine. 

He described the magnificence of the city, and enlarged 
upon the advantages which the holy legions would derive 
from this allegiafice, both in supplies of money and provis- 
ions. He stated that Alexius had already furnished ships 
to convey them across the Bosphorus, that a jjart of the 
army were already in Asia Minor, and expatiated ujoon the 
munificence of their Imperial host, who each week present- 
ed the leader of the expedition with as much gold as two 
slaves could bear upon their shoulders. 

Delicately alluding to the favors bestowed upon himself, 
he closed the ej)istle by presenting the monarch's request 
to the mother, that her son Stephen should be sent to Con- 



88 HEEOINES OP THE CRUSADES. 

Btantinople, to receive princely nurture at the most refined 
and elegant court in the world. 

Tears of affection and gratification filled the beautiful 
eyes of the countess, as gazing upon her blooming boy, she 
murmured, " My son may yet wear the diadem of the Cae- 
sars. My father was styled The Conqueror, because he 
added a poor island to his duchy of Normandy, but what 
title shall he bear who restores a continent to the dominion 
of Christendom ?" 

For the three following months the countess received no 
certain intelligence concerning the fate of the crusade. 
There were rumors of famine in the christian camp, and 
stories of dreadful battles with the Infidels ; but the state- 
ments were vague and unsatisfactory. 

Prince Henry had been absent for some time quelling 
an insurrection in I^ormandy, and the loneliness of Adela's 
situation, together with the anxiety of her mind, filled her 
thoughts with melancholy forebodings, and subdued the 
natural vivacity of her manners. 

The prince upon his return, was alarmed by the pallor of 
her countenance, and the sadness of her tones. 

" Cheer thee, my sister," said he, "thon wert, indeed, a 
prophet, to declare that the victories of the warriors would 
compensate for the disasters of the rabble crowds." 

" Art thou the bearer of good tidings ?" said Adela, a 
flush of hope irradiating her features. 

"Aye, verily," returned the prince, with exultation, "a 
well-authenticated account of the victories of the cross, em- 
bellished with as pretty a Passage of Arms in Cupid's tilt- 
yard, as the Romancers could well desire." 

" Sport not with my impatience," said Adela. " Tell me 
the name of thy messenger, and the news he brings." 

"The messenger is Gilbert of Becket, a Saxon esquire of 
Edgar Atheling, and, therefore, direct from Dnke Robert 
and Count Stephen. He sailed M'ith them across the Ionian 
Sea, and carried the shield of his master at the grand 
parade, in Constantinople." 



ADKLA. 89 

Atlela iiiternipteJ liiin. '^ I know all to the tiitie of their 
departure from that city. IIow have they sj)ed in their 
eiic(»unters with the Inlidels ?" 

"The first })lace of importance which they attacked," re- 
plied lieni-y, " was Nice, the cliiei city of Riiouin, occupied 
b.y the Seljoukian Turks, who exacted tribute fi'om all the in- 
habitants of Asia Minor. The Sultan Soliman hearing of the 
comino- of the crusaders, left his capital defended by a strong 
garrison, and hastened to the mountains levying troops in all 
directions. The first body of croises that reached the city, 
was led by Godfrey of Boulogne, and Hugh of Vermandois, 
who took up their position on the eastern side. Raimond 
of Toulouse, and the Bishop of Buy, encamped on the south, 
while Robert of Flanders, and Bohemond of Tarentura 
pitched their camp upon the north. And of this Bohe- 
mond, the noble chief of Otranto, I must tell thee. Forty 
Norman gentlemen who had distinguished tliemselves in 
the wars of our father, returning from a pilgrimage to the 
Holy Land, disembarked in Italy. Learning that the 
Brince of Salerno was besieged by the Saracens, they threw 
themselves into that town, and being supplied with arms 
and horses, soon compelled the Infidels to retire. After 
their return home, deputies came to Normandy from the 
prince inijjloring their further assistance. In consequence 
of his promises and persuasions, several bodies of adven- 
turers, at the head of whom was Robert Guiscard and his 
eleven brothers, emigrated together, cleared the south of 
Italy from the locust-like invaders, and established them- 
selves lords of Apulia and Calabria. Robert Guiscard 
sj^ent most of his life in wars with the Greek Emperor, and 
was finally poisoned by Alexius. Bohemond, the son of 
this Guiscard, espoused the quarrel, and was preparing to 
avenge his father's death, but when he heard the crusade 
j^roclaimed, his chivalric spirit at once caught the flame. 
Dashing his armor to pieces with his battle-axe, lie caused 
them to be formed into small crosses, which he distributed 
among his followers, and abandoning his possessions in 
Italy, joined the pilgrims with bis cousin, Tancred, a 



90 IIKKOINKS OF THK CliU.SADKH. 

youth distinguished fur beauty, valur, gcuerusity, enthu- 
siasm — " 

"I care nut," i^aid Adela, "though he were as beauti- 
ful as Absalom and wise as Solomon. There are two less 
distinguished chiefs, who possess far more interest for me 
than all the warriors in Italy." 

" Of those thou shalt hear anon," said Henry. " When 
this Bohemond was in Constantinople, the emperor sought 
to win his friendship." 

" Return not to Bohemond again," interrupted the coun- 
tess, " 'tis of Stephen and Robert I would hear." 

" ]^ow, sister," said Henry, playfully, "thou knowest 
not what thou refusest. Will it not please thy woman's 
curiosity, to hear of the magnificent rooms of the Blaquer- 
nel, filled with stores of money and jewels, costly garments, 
and rich silks of unheard-of value, that Alexius gave Bohe- 
mond to secure his allegiance." 

" Nothing w^ill please me," said Adela, " but to know 
what is the fortune of my husband." 

" And that will please thee well," said Henry, breaking 
into a playful laugh. " Stephen, triple Count of Blois, 
Chartres, and Champagne, the husband of my gifted sister," 
bowing to the countess, " son-in-law of William the Con- 
queror, father of earls, and I doubt not of kings, the most 
beautiful, accomplished, eloquent, and prudent man of the 
times, was chosen president of the council of chiefs." 

" Heaven bless thee for thy news," said Adela, in a 
transport of joy ; " and Robert?" 

" Justifies his 3-outhful soubriquet of ' unready.' He 
came last to the siege of Nice. His troops, however, were 
fresh and vigorous, and when he approached the city by 
the west, which position had been left for his encampment, 
he scanned, with a fearless eye, the double walls, defended 
by three hundred and fifty towers, filled with bowmen, and 
spearsmen of the most determined valor. He drew up the 
warriors of Normandy, with those of Blois and Chartres, 
and a band from Boulogne, whei-e a great part of the peo- 
ple led by Walter the Penniless and Peter the Hermit had 



ADELA. 91 

been defeated and slain. The Infidels in mockery bad 
formed here a great pile of their bones, and covered them 
with earth ; so that when Robert arrived with his forces, he 
pitclied his tent just beside the green sepulchre of those 
who had found martyrdom on that very spot, Peter tlie 
Hermit, with the remnant of his forces, soon after joined 
the besiegers, and the army, as tliey were then numbered, 
consisted of 600,000 infantry and 100,000 mailed cavalry. 
Each man confessed his sins, and the sacrifice of mass 
being offered, they commenced the erection of engines, and 
other preparations for the siege. Soliman himself was en- 
camped upon the mountains, scarcely ten miles off, watch- 
ing in wliat manner he miglit best free his city from the 
enemies that clustered around it. Two of his messengers 
were intercepted by Godfrey. They confessed that they 
were sent to concert with the besieged a double attack 
upon tlie christian cani^). The crusaders immediately pre- 
pared for tlie conflict. By break of day the Moslems be- 
gan to descend from the hills, and issue from the town. 
The Christians received them everywhere with determined 
valor, repulsed them on all points, became in turn the 
assailants, and all tlie plain around J^Tice grew one general 
scene of conflict. Tliis attack was twice repeated with the 
same result, and the sultan was at last compelled to retire, 
astoiilshed at the lion-like courage of the Franks, who 
with a thousand lances, could charge, and easily put to 
flight Lweuty thousand Turks. But amidst these splendid 
achievements, which the Saxon Gilbert described, with 
great vividness, he said it was mournful to see the pilgrims 
at nightfall collecting the dead bodies of their companions 
and bearing them in sad jDrocession to the cypress groves 
adjac"!nt, where by the melancholy glare of the torches 
they buried them without coffin or shroud. 

••' To intimidate the besieged, the croises cut off the heads 
o:'^ the fallen Moslems, and shot them from their engines 
into the city. 

" The Turks invented a horrid method of retaliation. Lono^ 
iron hooks were let down from the walls, by which the 



92 HEROINKS OF THE CRUSADES. 

bodies of the slaughtered Christians were seized and drawn 
uj) through tlie air, and after being stripped and maimed 
were again cast forth upon the ground. 

" Young Gilbert being wounded and lying insensible, was 
grappled and drawn into the city in this manner, but find- 
ing that life was not extinct, they delivered him over to the 
care of Soliman's physicians, who tended him as a prisoner 
of note. The siege had been protracted to some length 
and the Christians had succeeded in undermining a huge 
tower at the north-eastern angle of the wall. The Sultana, 
alarmed at the loss of this important defence, determined 
upon flight. Several boats were prepared, and the Queen, 
with her train, among whom was young Gilbert, attended 
by a dark-eyed daughter of an Emir, beautiful as an houri, 
attempted to make her escape at night by way of the lake. 
As the little fleet moved stealthily in the shadow of the 
overhanging cliff", Becket siezed a bow, and dexterously 
discharged an arrow towards the nearest outpost of the 
christian camp. 

"The twano- of the bow-strino^ attracted the attention of 
the Moslems, but Zaida perceiving tlie danger of her fa- 
vorite smote the strings of her harp, and thus, ingeniously 
reproducing the sound, made the whole ai:)pear the result 
of accident. 

" Becket afterwards learned, that the dart fell at the very 
feet of the sentinel dozing by the watch-fire, who started 
up, aroused his comrades, and soon the knights of Duke 
Robert swarmed along the shore. 

"The Paynims plied their oars in vain, the Kormans in- 
tercepted their flight. The Sultana was taken prisoner, and 
only the boat of the Emir with the disappointed Gilbert 
escaped captm-e. 

"The Christians having thus discovered the means, by 
which the city was supplied with provisions, procured boats 
from Constantinople and converted the siege into a block- 
ade. All hope now abandoned the Turks, and about the 
time of the summer solstice they offered terms of capitu- 
lation. 



ADELA, 93 

" The necessary negotiations were in progress, when Tatius, 
the lieutenant of the subtle Alexius, entered into a private 
treaty with the besieged, and while waiting for the gates 
to be opened, with indignation and astonishment the Chris- 
tians discovered the imperial ensign floating njion the walls 
of Nice. Alexius endeavored to appease their wrath by 
distributing rich bribes among the chiefs, and lai'gesses 
among the private soldiers, but dissatisfied and exasperated 
they struck their tents, and departed without setting foot 
within the city they had conquered. 

"Meanwhile, the captive Becket, was conveyed to the 
army of the Sultan, and though his ardent spirit chafed at 
restraint, and panted for the fight, his impatience was 
soothed by the tender attentions, and sweet songs, of the 
Emir's daughter. 

" Soliman, with the whole of his force, amounting to 
200,000 men, hung upon the rear of the crusading army, 
concealing his own evolutions, by his perfect knowledge of 
the country, and watching those of the croises with the 
keen anxiety of a falcon hovering over its prey. By some 
mischance, Robert and Bohemond were separated from the 
main body of the army. They encamped nevertheless on 
the banks of a beautiful stream, in the valley of the Gor- 
gon, and passed the night in repose. Scarcely had they 
commenced their march, on the following morning, when 
the immense army of the Sultan appeared upon the hills. 
From his station upon a lofty eminence, Becket had oppor- 
tunity to watch the progress of the contest, and from chris- 
tian captives that were brought to the camp, he learned 
many particulars concerning his companions. 

" Our brother Robert, with a vigor and promptitude for- 
eign to his character, drew up his forces, formed a rampart 
of wagons and baggage, and exhorted his men to meet 
with bravery the overwhelming shock. The terrific cries 
of the Turks, as they bore down upon the little band, the 
tramp of cavalry — the ringing of armor — the clash of 
shields — the trumpets of tlie christian hosts — the shouts 
of the chiefs and heralds, raised so fearful a din that 



94 HEKOINES OF THE CRUSADES, 

none could distinguish the war-cry of friend from foe. 
Becket perceived, however, that the Christians dropped the 
points of their long lances, and prepared to receive the 
heavy charge upon their swords, when suddenly each Moslem 
raised his bow", as he galloped forward, a thick cloud seemed 
to hide all objects from his sight, and two hundred thousand 
arrows dropped death among the followers of the cross." 

An involuntary shudder shook the frame of the countess, 
and she pressed her hands upon her eyes, as if to shut out 
the dreadful vision. 

Her brother continued, "The European chivalry spurred 
up the hill against their assailants. The Turks, as was their 
habit, yielded ground on every side, avoiding by the lieet- 
ness of their horses, the lances of the knights, and like the 
Parthians of old, continuing their fearful archery, f^ven as 
they fled. Again they wheeled, and with fiendish yells, 
fell upon the diminished band, encompassing them within 
the valley ; and fast as the Infidels fell beneath the tre- 
mendous blows of the Norman battle-axes, new foes stepped 
into their places. Borne back by the growing multitude 
that pressed upon them, the knights gave way before the 
Saracens, and were driven struggling against the very pikes 
of the foot-soldiers, that were advancing to their support. 
The Christians wavered. At this critical moment, Robert 
revived all the courage of his heart, and baring his head 
in the midst of the fray, seized his banner, and clear 
and far above all the roar of the conflict, Becket distin- 
guished his cry of, Xormandy ! I^ormandy to the rescue! 
The crusaders rallied, and stood again to their arms, and 
the Turks were driven back. Again the Saracens bore 
down upon them, giving them not a moment of rej)0se. 
Thick and fast was mown the flower of christian chivalry, 
soldier beside soldier, and knight beside kniglit. In the 
glimpses granted by the rapid evolutions of the Arab cav- 
alry, Becket could see the women of the camp bringing 
water from the river to the fainting troops, and bathing the 
wounded and dying. Thus the battle lasted for many 
hours, when the eye of the Saxon soldier perceived a cloud 



AUELA. 95 

of dust rising behiiul the hills. Then came banner, and 
pennon, and lance, and glittering armor, and the Red Cross 
fluttering on the wind. In scattered bands spurring on 
their hoi'ses for life, on came the western division of the 
croises. None waited for the others, Init each hastened to 
the fight, and rank after rank, troop after troop, shouting, 
''Deus vult^ ^Deus milt^ rushed over the mountains to the 
valley of the battle. The christian war-cry thrilled the 
heart of the heroic Gilbert, and he panted once more to 
join the standard that bore the emblem of our holy religion. 
Tearing off the white turban that Zaida liad bound about 
his brow, he held it up aloft, vainly hoping to attract the 
attention of his countrymen, and regain his liberty. But 
all were too intent upon the rout of the Infidels, to notice 
the signal, and his heart sunk within him, as the emir, fear- 
ing total discomfiture, commanded the slaves to carry away 
the women and prisoners to a strong fastness in the moun- 
tains. As they led him along the brow of the hill, he still 
kept his longing eye fixed upon the scene of conflict, and 
distinctly discerned at the head of the division of Raimond 
and Godfrey, the forms of two canonized martyrs, in armor 
glittering above the brightness of the sun ; and he could 
perceive that their presence struck terror into the heart of 
the enemy. But farther particulars concerning the battle 
he could not learn, except from the Saracens themselves, 
who seemed sadly discomfited, and hurried on in advance 
of the christian army, through Phrygia and Cilicia, laying 
waste the villages, and making a desert of the country 
through which they passed. At Tarsus he was separated 
from his faithful Zaida, and lodged alone in a Paynim 
tower, overlooking the Cydnus. Here he pined in loneli- 
ness day by day, gazing through the arrow-slit upon the 
never-varying hills, or watching wearily the waterfowl 
sporting upon the bosom of the stream. The christian 
host passed beneath the very walls of his tower. He distin- 
guished the forms of Robert, and Stephen, and the Athe- 
ling, and the armorial bearings and ensigns of the various 
detachments of European chivalry, and he struggled like 



96 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

an imprisoned bird to be free. lie sbouted the lionored 
names of the leaders, and the potent war-cry of the Chris- 
tians ; called on the Sav^iour, and Marj, and every saint in 
the calendar for release ; but in vain. The walls of his 
j)rison alone echoed his cry ; no ear heard his voice ; no 
eye was lifted towards his lonely turret. He watched till the 
last cross disappeared in the distance, and overwhelmed 
with despair, sank in agony upon the floor. 

" The moon was riding high in heaven when he was awa- 
kened by the light touch of a delicate hand, and the soft 
voice of Zaida whispered, ' Gilbert ! England !' the only 
Saxon words he had taught her. He started up, and an 
exclamation of joy mounted to his lip. But Zaida, with a 
warning motion, imposed silence, and beckoned him to fol- 
low her. Silently he tracked his stealthy way through the 
mazes of the castle, guided by the vision that glided on be- 
fore him, more like a spirit of the air, than a being of earthly 
mould, and the young Englishman had dizzy work to follow 
her down a rude stone stair, winding to the base of the 
cliff, where a little skilf was moored. She motioned him 
to embark. He obeyed, and turned to place her by his 
side. She was gone. Far up the steep he saw the last flut- 
ter of her white robe. He sprang to follow, but a strong 
arm dashed him to the bottom of the boat. The rowers 
bent to their oars, and the little bark glided noiselessly 
down the stream." 

" Did he rejoin the christian army ?" said Adela. 

" All along the banks of the river," replied Henry, " he 
beheld, with torturing gaze, the watch-fires of the christian 
camp, and heard the pass-word repeated by familiar 
voices, but the pirates, for such they were, permitted him 
neither to speak nor move. Reaching the sea of Cyprus, 
they put him on board a vessel, and he was conveyed to 
Brundusium." 

" And were these pirates Infidels ?" inquired Adela. 

" Saracens they were not," said her brother, " but to 
what extent they believed in our holy religion Becket was 
not prepared to state. They spoke several dialects of the 



ADELA. 97 

Europefins, and at the commencement of the crusades, 
turned their course towards the Holy Land, in the pleasant 
hope of serving both God and mammon with the sword." 

"And what forther chanced to the Saxon?" inquired the 
countess. 

" He returned through France, and when I saw him at 
Feschamp, had engaged his passage to England. And now, 
dear sister, I have come to take my leave of thee, in order 
to accompany him." 

" The news thou hast brought has removed a burden from 
my heart, and nerved me to my duties," said his sister. 
" But wherefore wouldst thou to England ?" 

" I have learned that the Duke of Bretagne is pressing 
iiis suit with the fair Matilda, and I must away to see that 
the prize be not riven from my grasp," 

" Hast heard aught of the Countess of Huntingdon ?" 
inquired Adela. 

*' Aye, and stj-ange news concerning her have I for thine 
ear. Thou knowest 'tis scarce a twelvemonth since the 
death of her husband Simon ; and she has again entered 
the holy estate of matrimony." 

"Impossible !" exclaimed Adela. "She who so longed 
for the quiet of conventual life !" 

" She was forced to forego her own inclinations to escape 
the tyranny of Rufus," returned Henry. 

" Poor Maude !" said Adela, " her life has been a con- 
tinual sacrifice to the selfish interests of others." 

" Her patient meekness disarms even her cruel fate," 
said Henry. " Simon always regarded her with the most 
devoted aifection, and made her sole heir to all her father's 
former possessions. It is said that our brother Rufus had 
fixed his eye upon the charming widow, and that to avoid 
his addresses, she accepted the hand of David, prince of 
Scotland." 

" She will then be thy best advocate with David's sister, 
Matilda." 

" Truth," said Henry. " The future Queen of Scotland 
shall aid to place the crown on the head of the future Queen 

7 



HEROINES OF THE CEUSADES. 



of England. Farewell. When I come again I hope to pre- 
sent thee my lovely bride." 

" Heaven speed thy purpose," said the countess, fer- 
vently, and thus they parted. 



CHAPTER XII. 

"I rather tell thee what is to be feared, 
Than what I fear." 

The administration of the affairs of her domains, render- 
ed it difficult for the Countess of Blois, in the absence of the 
most vigorous part of the population, to provide for the nu- 
merous families, left dependent by the wars ; and the in- 
creasing helplessness of her idiot son, added greatly to the 
burden of her cares. 'Twas Christmas morning, the anni- 
versary of her betrothal. A crowd had assembled in the 
grand cathedral of Chartres, to unite in the sacred solem- 
nities of the day, and to witness the christening of Lucy, 
the infant countess. So occupied was Adela with the im- 
pressive scene, that she did not observe the entrance of 
several knights, on whose noble forms and toil-worn habili- 
ments, the eyes of the multitude were riveted with the 
most intense curiosity ; nor did she notice, while the bishop 
sprinkled the babe with the holy-water, and consecrated it 
to God, that their leader had advanced to the altar and 
knelt beside her at the font: but when the warrior stretch- 
ed out his arm to receive the white-robed cherub from the 
hands of the priest, she turned to see her Jmsband gazing 
with unutterable tenderness upon his infant daughter, whom 
he now beheld for the first time. 

The unexpected return of their lx)rd gave an additional 
impulse to the festivities of the day among the numerous 
retainers of the count. 

When the joyous greetings and congratulations were 



ADELA. 99 

over, and. Adela and Stephen were left to the free inter- 
change of their own thoughts, the countess, wlio suspected 
that some misadventure had occasioned this unannounced 
arrival, led the way to an exijlanation. " And wherefore 
comes not Kobert with thee ?" she inquired. 

" Methinlcs thou miglitest S]>are thine asking," said Ste- 
phen, looking fondly uj^on her. " Kobert has not those ties 
that draw me to my native land. Adventure and war are 
wife and children to him." 

" Did wife and children draw my husband from the 
paths of glory and the cause of God ?" replied the countess, 
apprehensively. 

"Those paths which thy imagination invests with glory," 
said Stephen, " are but the tracks v/liere reptiles and sav- 
age beasts have founci their way, among craggy rocks and 
thorny bushes, bleeding deadly venom. We followed them 
through deplorable suffering, and were conducted to disas- 
ter and defeat. And as for the cause of God, if thou hadst 
seen the vices of these holy croises, and the hardships they 
endured, thou wouldst have deemed either that they were 
not the people of God, or that the Almighty took little note 
of the sufferings of his faithful servants." 

" 'Tis the faint heart that feels the toils of the way, and 
distrusts the care of Providence," said Adela, reproach- 
fully. " Did not the vows of knighthood alone forbid thee 
to abandon the holy cause ?" 

'' To abandon a cause forsaken by God and man, were 
the dictate of prudence," retorted Stephen, stung by the 
censure of his beloved countess. 

" Prudence is born of cowardice," replied she, with un- 
abated warmth. " I have hitherto heard of deeds of valor, 
not of desertion ; of victory, not of defeat." 

" Thine ignorance then excuses thy violence," said Ste- 
phen ; " but if thou wilt listen patiently to thy lord, thou 
mayest perchance become better informed." 

" I will listen to nothiiig that brands my Stephen with 
cowardice !" exclaimed Adela. " My heart exulted in the 
thought that the president of the chiefs would counsel them 



100 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

to worthy deeds !" and the haughty woman burst into tears 
of mingled tenderness and mortified pride. 

" By the crucifix at Lucca !" exclaimed Stephen, rising 
in wrath, " an thou wilt not listen to reason, 'twere vain 
to talk." 

" And if reason determined thy return, wherefore comest 
thou alone ?" said Adela, striving to conquer her emotion. 

" Alone !" replied the count. " Of the multitudes that 
left Europe at the preaching of Peter, three fourths have 
returned already or fallen victims to their folly. The Her- 
mit himself has fled from the sight of miseries that he was 
impotent to relieve and unable to endure. Baldwin has 
joined a joiratical band that ravage the coast of Cilicia. 
Raimond, of Toulouse, languishes the victim of a pestilen- 
tial fever. Godfrey, the soul of the expedition, torn and 
lacerated, in an encounter with wild beasts, lies prostrate 
with his wounds ; nay, the Count Melun, and Tatius the 
lieutenant of Alexius, have withdrawn their forces ; and 
when sickness compelled me to retire for a season from the 
siege of Antioch, fifteen thousand Turks, from the heart of 
Asia, were on their way to join the myriads that surround 
the christian camp." 

"And what kind hand tended thy illness?" said the 
countess, her tenderness returning at the thought of his suf- 
fering. 

" The bivouac of the soldier admits few of those atten- 
tions so grateful to an invalid," replied her husband, much 
softened. " However, my indisposition was of short dura- 
tion, and I should have rejoined my companions, had not 
intelligence reached me that caused me to abandon all hope 
for the success of the enterprise. 

" I tell thee that the project of subduing Asia is utterly 
foolish and vain. The Greek empire, the barrier of Eurjpe 
on the east, is little less infidel than the sons of Islam ; and 
every conquest of the Christians is claimed by Alexius as 
feudal lord. He wrested from us the city of Nice in the 
very hour of victory. On my retui-n, I met him at the 
head of his army on the way to take possession of Antioch, 



ADELA. 101 

and by. representing the power of the Turks turned him 
from his purpose." 

"But do not the people of God always triumph in the 
battles with the Infidels ?" inquired Adela. 

" In single encounter or in a fair field," replied Stephen, 
" the croises are uniformly victorious : but valor wields no 
weapon against famine and disease. Our army, at such 
a distance from their own land, must be dependent for sxiip- 
plies upon the grace of Alexius, each victory, therefore, but 
lays the foundation for another contest, and were Palestine 
delivered from the Turk, it would require still greater ex- 
ertion, to wrest it from the Greek." The countess was 
silenced by reasoning which she could not answer, but 
against which all her feelings revolted. Yet though she 
apparently acquiesced in her husband's decision, her heart 
was keenly alive to every rumor that might reflect upon his 
fame. ISTor were her feelings soothed, by hearing that the 
pilgrims besieged in Antioch, enfeebled by disease and 
wasted by famine, reproached Count Stephen, as the cause 
of all their miseries ; since he had w^ithdrawn his own 
forces, not only, but turned back the armies that were has- 
tening to their relief. Her pride and ambition were deeply 
wounded by these reports, and when she learned that the 
Christians, at the very point to die of starvation, had bound 
themselves never to abandon the cause, till they had press- 
ed their lips upon the Holy Sepulchre ; that visions of 
saints and apostles, had reawakened energy and activity in 
their wasted ranks, that the lance that pierced the side of 
the Saviour, had been discovered and that a " bright squad- 
ron of celestial allies," had closed in with the battalions 
of the christian army and pursued the Saracen legions from 
the vale of the Orontes, she felt that her husband had not 
only tamely resigned an earthly crown, but had by the 
same cowardly act forfeited an heavenly inheritance. In 
the agony of her disappointment and chagrin, she vowed 
she would give him no rest till he returned to the Holy 
Land, to wipe out with his blood if need be, the foul stain 
upon his honor. 



102 np:ROiNKs of the crusades. 

In this state of mind Stephen found it impossible to in- 
terest her in any of their accnstomed occupations and 
amusements. Xews from the Crusade alone restored her 
wonted animation, and as these tidings,- generally, reflected 
little honor upon himself, he suppressed as much as possi- 
ble all intelligence from the East, and contrived to pass his 
time in distant parts of his domains. The torturing sus- 
pense of the countess at length induced her secretly to dis- 
patch a messenger to Italy. He returned bearing a tran- 
script of an olficial letter, which the chiefs of the Crusade 
had sent to Pope Urban. After giving the details of the 
march from Antioch along the sea-coast past Tripoli, 
through the country of Sidon to Ramula, the letter went 
on. " Thence our troops continued their route to the village 
formerly called Emmaus, and like the discij)les of old ' our 
hearts burned within us,' Vi^hen there came to us certain 
brethren from Bethlehem to comfort us, after all our fa- 
tigues, and to welcome us to this holy and beautiful land. 
Sleep was banished from every eye, and ere midnight was 
well passed, every man animated by the fervor of hope and 
the intensity of desire, had girded on his armor and come 
forth from his tent, prepared for the last conflict. We 
wandered along the highways and fields, in darkness ; but 
at length the heavens blushed with the glorious suddenness 
of eastern dawn, and as the sun shot his level rays across 
the sacred brow of Olivet, the holy city lay before our eyes. 
'Jerusalem! Jerusalem!' was re2:)eated with tumultuous 
wonder, by a thousand tongues. Every fatigue, eveiy 
danger, every hardship, was forgotten, and the warrior be- 
came at once a simple pilgrim ; his lance and sword \vere 
thrown aside, and the passion which stirred every heart, 
was clothed with divers gestures. Some shouted to the 
sky— some we2:)t in silence — some knelt and prayed — some 
cast themselves down and kissed the blessed earth — ' all 
had much to do to manage so great a gladness.' Taking 
oft' our shoes, we trod the sacred ground vrith naked feet, 
and thus proceeding, came in front of the city and pitched 
our camp upon the north, between the gate of St. Stephen 



ADKLA. 103 

and the tower of David. It was early summer, the harvest 
was upon the g-round, tlie grapes were ripe upon the vines, 
and before tlie waters of the autumnal equinox, drojiped 
upon us out of heaven, the ensign of the cross was floating 
UDon the walls of Jerusalem. For having lono; assailed 
the bulwarks in vain, we prepared movable towers of great 
strength, which we rolled to the walls, commenced the as- 
sault, not as in former times at the sound of drums and 
trumpets, but with the inspiring melodv of hymns and 
psalms, while the priests bowed on Mt. Zion and prayed 
for the aid of heaven on the ensuing conflict. The Infidels, 
to manifest their rage, erected the symbol of our holy re- 
ligion, and cast dust upon it, but the Lord was Avith us, 
and the sacrilegious insult was well atoned by their blood, 
for while Godfrey and Baldwin leaped from a tower and 
planted a banner upon the battlements, Tancred and 
Robert burst open one of the gates, Raimond and his fol- 
lowers scaled the walls, and thus we have freed the city 
from the dominion of the Infidels, and avenged the cause 
of heaven. We laid down our arms, washed our hands 
from the bloody stains, put on the habiliments of repent- 
ance, and in the sj)irit of humility, with uncovered lieads 
and reverent feet, walked over all those places which the 
Saviour had consecrated by his presence. The ghost of 
the departed Adhemar came and rejoiced with us, and the 
spirits of the martyrs who perished on the road from Europe 
to Jerusalem, appeared and shared in the felicity of their 
brethren. The whole city was influenced by one spirit, 
and the clamor of thanksgiving was loud enough to have 
reached the stars. Thus in the year of our Lord 1099, was 
the city of Jerusalem added again to the dominion of 
Christendom, on the very day and hour of the crucifixion 
of the Saviour. At this auspicious time. Pope Urban second 
sits in the Roman see ; Henry is em23eror of the German, 
and Alexius of the Grecian empire. Philip reigns in France 
and William Rufus in Enghmd, whilst over all men and 
all things, reigns our Lord Jesus Christ forever and ever, 
to whom be honor and glory- for endless ages." 



104 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES, 



CHAPTER XIII. 

" I have deeply felt 
The mockery of the shrine at which my spirit kuelt. 
Mine is the requiem of years in reckless folly passed, 
The wail above departed hopes on a frail venture cast." 

"Whittier. 

AcTi:!fG upon the hint of Adela, Prince Heniy repaired 
immediately to Huntingdon and secured the good offices 
of Maude and her husband, in effecting a communication 
with the beautiful novice Matilda. He was thus enabled 
to counteract the efforts of his powerful rival Wan-enne, 
Earl of Surrey, to whom Rufus had promised her hand. 
Deeming it unsafe however to quit England, he tarried at 
court and passed his time in hunting and hawking, accord- 
ing to the manners of the age. The I*^ew Forest was the 
constant scene of dissolute pleasures. The sweet solemnity 
of the deep woods was daily disturbed by the Bacchanal 
revel, and the pure echoes of the dell were forced to answer 
the loose laugh and thoughtless imprecation. Godly men 
lifted up their voice against the corruptions of the age, and 
saintly priests warned by omens and dreams, admonished 
the Red King on a certain day, to avoid the glen in which 
Prince Richard was supposed to have contracted his fatal 
disease. But the impious Rufus, w^ith studied contempt 
led the chase that way, diverting his attendants with ribald 
jests upon the warnings he had received. " Come, Deer's 
foot," said Warrenne, tauntingly to Prince Henry, " yonder 
bounds the stag. The fair hand of Matilda to him who 
brings the antlered monarch down." " I have broken the 
string of my arblast, and must repair to the hut of this for- 
rester to replace it," replied Henry coldly. "Come on, ye 
laggards. Ho ! Tyrrel, thou and I alone will be in at the 
death," cried Rufus, putting spurs to his horse. As Henry 
entered the cottage, a weird wife rose up as if from the 
ground before him, chanting in Norman French, 



ADELA. 105 

"Hasty news to thee I bring — 
Henry, thou art now a king. 
Mark the words and heed them well, 
Which to thee in sooth I tell." 

The closing words were interrupted by hurried cries of 
alarm and distress. The prince turned, and the horror- 
stx'icken Tjrrel, whose erring shaft had slain the king, 
dashed past the door. Comprehending the whole affair at 
once, Henry remounted his horse and rode full speed to 
Winchester, forced the keys from the keeper, and took 
possession of the regalia and royal treasure. The people 
thronged round him in the streets, and while the nobles and 
prelates were debating on the claims of Eobert, the popu- 
lace, whose allegiance he secured by the promise of English 
laws and an English Queen, made the city resound with 
loud shouts of " Long live King Henry." Within three 
days he was crowned at Winchester, by the bishop of 
London. 

Scarce a month after the Countess of Blois was apprized 
of these events, the tardy Robert arrived at Chartres. He 
had lingered in Apulia to woo Sybilla, the fair cousin of 
Bohemond, and now returned to claim his inheritance, 
after his younger brother was securely seated on the throne. 
The countess received him with the greatest joy, and hon- 
ored his peerless bride with the most distinguishing atten- 
tions ; but when she learned that he depended upon lier 
good offices with Stephen to secure assistance in a medi- 
tated invasion of England, her love for her favorite brother 
Henry, and her apprehension of the unsteady rule of Robert, 
moved her to dissuade him from the scheme, and she se- 
cretly hoped that he might be made instrumental in in- 
ducing her husband to return again to the Holy Land. She 
learned from Robert the various success of the leaders of 
the crusade. While some were still carving their way with 
the sword, Bohemond was Prince of Antioch, Baldwin of 
Edessa, and Godfrey enjoyed the enviable distinction of 
being King of Jerusalem. 

" The voice of fame has sjiuken oft to me of the pi'owess 



106 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 



! 



of my brother Kobert," said she. " Did not his peers 
deem him worthy a princii^ality in Palestine?" j 

" Nay, it needed not the suffrages of the chiefs, since heav- 
en itself preferred my poor claims above all others," replied 
Robert. " When a king was to be chosen, the bishops gave 
to each leader a waxen candle, and directed us to walk in 
procession to the Holy Sepulchre. As we advanced within 
the sacred j^lace, a sudden flame kindled upon the taper I 
held in my hand, but at that moment a whisper of Eufus' 
death swept across my spirit, and remembering the throne 
of England I dashed out the Mght." — 

"Unhappy man !" exclaimed the countess. "Thou hast 
refused the call of heaven. Look not for success in any 
future enterprise. Hope not that divine sanction will back 
thine endeavor, and expect not aid or succor by thy sister's 
intervention." 

"By the Holy Rood," shouted Robert in wrath, " thou 
Queen'st it well for a woman whose craven husband was 
the first to desert his standard. It were indeed the part 
of a madman to expect assistance from the dastard earl." 
Before the anger of the countess gave lier voice to reply, 
he strode from her presence. 

Meantime, Henry hearing that Robert had arrived in 
IN'ormand}', strengthened his power by conciliating the 
English nation, and took prompt measures to redeem his 
promise of giving them an English Queen. But for some 
unaccountable reason the Saxon princess seemed averse to 
quitting her gloomy convent, nor would she consent to be- 
stow her hand upon the handsomest and most accom- 
plished sovereign of his time, till he had promised to con- 
firm to the nation all the ancient laws and privileges estab- , 
lished by her great ancestor Alfred, and ratified by Edward | 
the Confessor. When a digest of these rights and immu- ; 
nities had been made, and a hundred copies committed i 
to the care of the principal bishoprics and monasten'es of 
England, she consented to become " the bond of peace to a [ 
divided nation — the dove of the newly sealed covenant 
between the Norman sovereign and her own people." ! 



ADKLA. 107 

The efforts of Robert, delayed till Henry's power "was 
thus consolidated, of course proved ineflectual. He wasted 
the munificent dower of his beautiful Sybilla, in idle feast- 
ing, and having buried his lovely wife the third year after 
their marriage, he gave up Normandy to Henry, for an 
annual pension, and was finally taken in a revolt, convey- 
ed to Cardiff Castle, where in a sort of honorable captivity 
he passed the remainder of his useless life. 

The spirit of crusade was still active in Europe, and 
combined with this spirit, was the hope of gain, springing 
from vague and exaggerated, accounts of the wealth and 
principalities which the leaders of the first expedition had 
acquired. The devastated lands of Palestine were soon 
settled by families who immigrated from pecuniary or 
pious motives, and not long after the death of Godfrey, and 
the election of Baldwin I. to the throne of Jerusalem, 
several bodies of armed men set out to join their brethren 
in Asia. Count Stephen, wearied with the incessant impor- 
tunities of his ambitious wife, shamed by the example of 
Hugh, Count of Vermandois, and stimulated, perhaps, by 
the hope of obtaining easier conquest, and less dangerous 
honors, consented to return to the Holy Land. At Con- 
stantinople they met with Kaimond of Toulouse, who was 
returning for assistance, and proceeded under his guidance. 
On their way through Asia Minor, they encountered the 
Turks, lost one hundred thousand men, together with Hugh 
of Yermandois, who died of his wounds, at Tarsus, Rai- 
mond of Toulouse was slain at Tripoli, but Stephen, Count 
of Blois, wath the rest of the leaders proceeded straight to 
Jerusalem ; and having by the completion of his pilgri. 
mage, wiped out the disgrace of his first desertion, embark- 
ed on board a vessel to return to Europe. The heart of the 
countess dilated with pride and joy, as from time to time 
she heard of his noble deeds, and with feelings akin to 
the romance of her youthful admiration, she hourly ex- 
pected his return. One evening, sitting thus alone, a ser- 
vant announced, that a monk in the anteroom craved per- 
mission to speak M-irh her. Tiie countess ordered him to 



108 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

be instantly admitted, and her heart sickened with a sad 
foreboding, as a diminutive figure veiled in palmer's weeds 
stood before her. 

" Speak thine errand quickly," said she, pale and breath- 
less with agitation. " What of my lord ?" He replied only 
by an upward motion of the hand, and Adela knew that her 
husband was dead. She sank back in her seat and clasped 
her hands, but kept her eyes fixed with the intensity of the 
keenest emotion upon the face of the monk. " Tell me all, 
good father," said she, in a voice nervously firm. 

" I know little, noble lady," replied the palmer, " and 
though I have come all the way from Palestine to bring 
thee tidings, my story will be brief. Thou hast, doubtless, 
heard of the poor services of Peter the Hermit, in awaken- 
ing the attention of Europe to the low estate of Jerusalem. 
When by Divine favor I had been so blest as to conduct 
the greatest warriors of the age to the conquest of the Holy 
Sepulchre, and had seen the Christians thus relieved from 
Turkish oppression, fall at my unworthy feet, and call 
down blessings upon my head, I felt to exclaim like Simeon 
of old, 'Lord, lettest now thy servant depart in peace, 
since mine eyes have seen thy salvation.' With the deep- 
est humiliation, for having in a moment of temptation, 
wavered in faith, I thought to found a monastery upon 
the shores of Lake Gennesareth, where I might have the 
example of the sinking Peter ever before mine eyes. One 
evening, as I walked upon the shores of the sea, revolving 
these things in my thoughts, I felt myself suddenly seized 
from behind. A bandage was thrown over my eyes, I 
was forcibly lifted from the ground, placed upon a mule 
and hurried forward. I attempted to cry out, but a hand 
was laid upon my mouth, and a voice whispered in Anglo- 
Norman, 'Fear not, old man, thou art among friends, and 
bidden only to labor in thine holy calling.' Thus assured, 
I ceased my struggles. How far I was conveyed, I know 
not, but when the bandage was taken from my eyes, I 
found myself in a wild cave <>f the mountain, by t[ie side 
of a dying crusader, and reco:rii;;5ed in tJie pale coiintc- 



ADELA. 109 

nance before me, the lineaments of Stephen Earl of Blois. 
' Take conrage, noble count,' said the voice that had be- 
fore spoken in mine ear, ' I have caught a priest whose 
ghostly counsels will speedily prepare thee for the long 
journey, which all must sooner or later take.' With a 
tenderness which one would scarcely look for in such a 
savage, the chief raised the dying earl, and gently sup- 
ported him while I received his directions concerning cer- 
tain affairs, and ministered the last rites of our holy faith. 
The count pressed me to promise that I would, myself, 
bring to thee the epistle, which he had with much pain and 
difficulty indited. And when I hesitated, by reason of the 
monastery which I had resolved to found, he summoned 
all his remaining strength, and while I guided his trem- 
bling hand, drew for me a deed of the vale of Montier, and 
bade me bring it to thee for thou wouldst ratify it, and en- 
dow the abbey by thy bounty. Scarcely had he finished it, 
when his wounds bleeding afresh, a deadly faintness seized 
him. The chief laid him back upon the cushions. I held 
up the crucifix before his eyes, and murmuring a prayer in 
which were mingled the names of wife and children, he 
expired. That night I gave him christian burial beneath 
one of the cedar-trees of Mount Lebanon, the swarthy bar- 
barians holding torches, and looking with reverent awe 
upon the solemn scene. Before morning I was again blind- 
folded, and conducted to tlie sea-coast, and put on board a 
vessel bound for Italy." So intent had the Hermit been 
on his narration, that he had not observed the countess, 
pale and rigid as though turned to stone ; and when she 
clutched with convulsive eagerness the parcel he extended, 
he bowed and withdrew. 

She tore oflf the envelope, and the scarf which her girl- 
sh hand had wrought in the hours of her first sweet love, 
uiled and blood-stained, fell across her lap, aud crept ac- 
cusingly to her feet. She opened the letter and read — 

" To Adela, my best and only beloved, thy Stephen 
sends this last token of affection. In this my dying hour 
it is niv sweetest cons'>l;iti"!i t-; t'e<-l that with mv sword I 



110 nEtlOlXES OF THE CRUSADES. 

have pierced the cloud that has so long been between iis, 
and that could I see ray Adela, she would smile upon me 
as the loved and honored husband of her youth. I have 
bathed in the Jordan, and worshipped at the sepulchre ; 
but it was the human love and not the Divine^ that bap- 
tized my soul with joy, and whispered pardon to my 
wounded spirit. I have sought for glory in the land of 
patriarchs and prophets, and I have found it ; but in the 
accents of fame my ear has heard only the voice of Adela. 
The Eternal saw mine idolatry and punished it. Adverse 
winds drove back the vessel that was to bear me to my 
native land. The King of Jerusalem called upon us again 
for aid. We fought in the plains of Ramula, seven hun- 
dred knights against the whole force of the Turkish army. 
Hemmed in on every side, we fell, bravely defending the 
standard of the cross. Fainting from loss of blood, my 
dull ear heard the cry of 'Allah ackbar.' Like one dreaming 
I called upon the name of Hardrager. Immediately the 
old 7han came to me and stanching my mortal wound, bound 
it tightly with the scarf which I had thrown across my 
breast to animate me, for the conflict, I was conveyed 
away, and awoke as did Ingulfus, in the cave of the Assas- 
sins. I know that I shall die. I cannot long sustain the 
pressure of the ligament, and when once 'tis loosened my 
last blood will flow, Hardrager has promised me christian 
burial, and sent for a priest to shrive my parting soul. 
Think of me kindly, proudly, my best beloved. Teach my 
sons to honor their father's name, for he died fisrhtino; in 
the Holy Land. Kiss my darling Lucy, the sweet babe 
who unconsciously smiled upon ray return. Darkness 
gathers upon my sight. The forms that gladdened my youth- 
ful days pass before me, and the fairest among them all is 
ray bride, my Adela." A few more words were indis- 
tinctly traced, the page seemed blotted with tears, and the 
name of Stephen was scarcely legible. 

Years passed over the spirit of the countess in the in- 
tense agony of that one night. Pier heart-strings strained 
to their utmost tension by the power of this mighty woe, 



ADELA. Ill 

thenceforth gave no response to the light fingering of ordi- 
nary circumstance. The tender solicitude of friendship, 
the sweet prattle of childhood, the hilarity of mirth, the 
consolations of religion, and the schemes of ambition, were 
endured and accepted with the same passionless apathy. 
She made a journey to Normandy, and arranged a recon- 
ciliation between her brother Henry and the primate An- 
selm with her accustomed wisdom. She visited Boulogne, 
and presided at the nuptials of her son Stephen with her 
wonted grace. She gave her Lucy to the Earl of Chester, 
with a mother's blessing, and saw her depart in the fatal 
White Ship without emotion. But when she again stood at 
the door of the abbey of Feschamp to welcome Maude once 
more to Normandy, the curtain of retrospection was lifted, 
and the whole drama of her life passed before her. Adela 
and Maude ! The disparitj^ between the happy child and 
the sad captive was less striking than the contrast between 
the elegant and stately Countess of Blois, and the serene 
and gracious princess of Scotland, who now met after life 
had gathered the bloom of their youthful beauty, and left 
the indefinable shades which character traces upon the hu- 
man countenance. Fixed and calm were the features of 
Adela, once radiant with vivacity, but their repose was the 
death of emotion, and their calmness was not resignation, 
but submission to inexorable fate. The face of Maude, 
still fair and beautiful in the strength of its repose, beamed 
with I lie serene benignity of ineffable peace, and she 
see^nt'l one, the joyousness of whose inner life found occa- 
sion j':r an overflow of beneficence in every outward oc- 
curioiice. 

Again they journeyed together through the scenes that 
witnessed the triumphal progress of William the Conqueror. 
But it was now the task of Maude to soothe the spirit of 
her friend, bound with the chain of remorseful regret. 
Cicely, celebrated for her piety, had become lady abbess 
of the convent of Caen, and it was the intention of the 
countess to enter the nunnery under her care. In fitting 
up her dormitory Adela iiad laid aside all her accustomed 



112 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

magnificence, and the only relic of her former state was a 
gorgeous curtain that divided her oratory from the cheer- 
less apartment, chosen as the home of her future years. 

" Maude," said she, as they sat together there, "remem- 
berest thou the riddle of life and love that once formed our 
theme of converse in an hour like this ? How thy heart 
pined for the convent, and mine shuddered at its gloom." 

" Aye," said Maude, " well do I remember it, and often 
have I smiled at the presumption which made me attempt to 
solve the greatest mystery of human existence, and arrogate 
to myself the choice of the future ; when the highest wisdom 
leads only to the faithful performance of daily duties." 

"I mind me now," replied the countess, "that thy gentle 
admonition pointed to that effect. — But I scorned control, 
and when I saw the cruel policy by which my father 
strengthened his dominion, I determined that my hand 
should never seal the bond of a political alliance, and it 
was not till after years that I learned that the meeting be- 
tween Stephen and myself resulted from a preconcerted 
plan to bind me to one whose mild virtues would counteract 
my unholy aspirings. Thj' instructions had taught me the 
power of a righteous purpose, and I sought its aid to com- 
pensate for what I considered a defect in my husband's 
character, vainly hoping that ambition, sanctioned by re- 
ligion, would secure its reward. With fatal skill I wrought 
upon his generous affections till he relinquished the dear 
delights of his family, to seek barren laurels, and find a 
lonely grave on a foreign shore." 

" Reproach not thyself," said Maude, tenderly. 

The countess heeded not her interruption. " Thou and 
I," said she, " have wrought for different ends, and the re- 
sults for which I toiled have come to thee unsought." 

Maude would have replied, but the passionate woman 
proceeded. "JSTay, let me speak ; for since my great grief 
has fallen upon me, I have unburdened my heart to no one. 
As a captive thou didst bring a blessing to the household 
of the Conqueror ; thy sweet spirit moulded the rude 
Simon into a benefactor of his dependents, and I know well 



ADELA. 113 

that it WHS thv benevolent wisdom which instructed Ma- 
tilda to secure the liberty of England, and the stability of 
Heni-j's throne. Thy silent sacrifices have made the rich 
current of thy life one stream of beneficence, while my err- 
ing spirit has converted the bounties of heaven into foun- 
tains of misery. My wioijfed pride found occasion in 
the imbecility of my first-born William for ceaseless 
repining, and sowed the seeds of sorrow in the hearts of 
my other noble beautiful children. Thibaut is in arms 
against his sovereign, Stephen a pensioner on the fickle 
humors of a king, Henry seeks preferment through the 
church, and my lovely Lucy, the darling of licr father, lies 
entombed in the sea. Oh ! Maude ! Maude ! my best and 
truest friend, pity her whose only occupation through long 
years has been 'to write bitter tilings against herself!' 
But I might have known it all," continued she impetuously, 
" for heaven through thy intercession deigned to warn me 
of my fate, and I would not tell thee lest thy gentle love 
should win me from it." 

She drew aside the curtain of the oratory, and led the 
princess within the shadow. Through the oriel windows 
the mellow light of the autunmal sun fell softly upon the 
altar, where stood beside the crucifix the crystal urn con- 
taining the hallowed dust of Palestine. The scarf of 
Stephen, with its golden embroidery rusted, and its bright 
pearls dimmed with his blood, was wound round the 
precious love-gift, and fastened with the thorn obtained 
from Ingulfus. 

" It seems but yesterday," said she, tenderly detaching 
the baldric, " since I held this up before thee with pride 
and pleasure, and in careless wonder saw thee wreathe it in 
the canopy of my couch. But that dream, now that my 
whole life looks a dream, seems the one reality of my ex- 
istence. 1 shall tell it thee, for my spirit already feels the 
balm of thy gentle sympathy. . 

" My slumbers were at first broken and disturbed. I 
seemed with Stephen and Robert in an eastern land, hur- 
rying over rocks and sands, a tiresome, weary way, in pur- 

6 



114 IIEKOINKS OF T}iE CKUSAI)^8. 

suit of a crown Avliicli coiistauflj tempted, but eluded the 
grasp. First I missed Stephen from my side, tiieu Robert 
disappeared, and at last I sank down among myriads of 
wretches perishing of thirst. I woke in terror, and it v/as 
long ere I could compose mj'self again to rest. AVhether 
I slept again I know not, but t#I lay gazing into the depths 
of the heavens, my vision seemed to pierce beyond the 
stars ; and from the uttermost distance came one winging 
his way past the bright orbs, till he stood within the case- 
ment, the impersonation of my lover. 

" My scarf lay upon his breast, and his right hand held out 
to mo an urn, pure as though formed of consolidated light, 
upon whose amethystine entablature was engraven Human 
Love. As I extended my hand, and clasped the precious 
treasure, the shattered inscription fell to dust in the vase. 
I raised my eyes, — he threw a pitying smile upon me, and 
immediately there sprang up from the ashes a celestial 
iiowei', and as each, living petal unfolded, there floated off 
a radiant line of light bearing the sacred words Divine 
Love., till the whole air was filled with redolence and 
beauty. 

"The ringing of the matin chimes recalled me to con- 
sciousness, and my bright vision was absorbed by the 
flood of glory which the morning sun poured into the 
apartment. 

"Thou saidst truth I" exclaimed Maude. " Th}- dream 
is a reality ; for in the ashes of Llumcui Love., the Divine 
plants the sweetest ho2)es of existence." 

The long sealed fountain of Adela's tears began to flow^, 
and as the gracious drojDS distilled from her surcharged 
heart, and her |)aralyzed sensibilities felt once more the 
bliss of emotion, the strong, proud woman, became gentle 
and humble as a child. 

" Maude," said she, clasping her hands in gratitude, 
" there w^as ever a mystery about thee. I had thought to 
wear out my life in sad penance, and thou hast opened to 
me a source of happy contemplation : henceforth my desert 
future, fertilized by the sweet waters that have cnshed 



ADELA. 115 

from the rock at thy magic toiicli, shall blussDin with the 
flowers of Paradise." 

Tiie abbess Cicely here entered, and summoned them to 
the hall of general reception, where Maude embraced her 
son and received the ambassadors sent by her husband to 
conduct her to Stirling, the pkice appointed for her corona- 
tion, as Queen of Scotland. 

" Go," said Adela, with affectionate joy, as she saw her 
depart. " Go to thy bright destiny. Thou art a living il- 
lustration of the ti'uth of scripture, ' Be thou faithful over a 
few things, 'and I will make tliee ruler over many things.' " 



E L E AN K. 



I " 



? 



1 






CHAPTER L 

" lu the midst was seeu 
A lady of a more majestic mien, 
By stature and by beauty marked their sovereign Queen." 

The soutliern provinces of France, Poitou, Saintognc, 
Aiivergne, Perigorcl, Liinonsin, Angoituiois and Guienne, 
received of the Konians tlie classic appellation of Aqnitaine. 
This beautiful land, watered by the Garojme and Loire, 
whose clear and sparkling streams, flowing from vine-clad 
hills, stretched their silvery arms to irrigate the fairest 
fields and to enclose the finest harbors in the world, v/as in 
the tvi'elfth century, inhabited by the most civilized and 
polished people on the face of the earth. The arts, and the 
idealities, and the refinements of life, like the native flow- 
ers of its sunny vales, seemed wakened and nourished by 
the genial airs of a climate, softened by -the proximity of 
tlie sea, and rendered braciug by the mountain breeze. 
The numerous and independent sovereigns, whose feudal 
sway extended over this fair territory, imbibed the spirit 
of chivalry, and caught the enthusiasm that precipitated 
the armies of Europe upon Asia. Count Kainiond of Ton- 
louse, was one of the first who took the cross, at the council 
of Clermont. He was styled ])ar excellence the Moses of 
the expedition. Before leaving for Palestine, on his re- 
turnless voyage, he ceded his dominions to his daughter, 
wife of "William IX. of Poitou, The grand-children of 
William IX. were Eleanor and Pctronilla. The father of 
these fair sisters, AVilliam X., left Aquitaine in 1132, with 
their uncle Raimond, who was chosen prince of Antioch. 

The poetical taste of Eleanor was early cidtivated and 
developed by the unrestrained freedom she enjoyed in the 
queenless court of her minstrel grandfather in Gay Guienne. 



120 HEKOIXES OF THE CRUSADES. 

The language that prevailed all over the south of France, 
was called Provengal. It was the mother-tongue of Duke 
"William, the grandfatlier of Eleanor, who was one of the 
most liberal patrons and earliest professors of that style 
of composition in which the Troubadours celebrated the 
feats of love and arras. The matchless charms of Eleanor 
were enhanced bj all the accomplishments of the south. 
Her fine genius found ample exercise in composing the 
sirvantes and chansons of Provencal poetry, and her 
delicate fingers wiled the spirit of music from the echoing 
harp to accompany her voice adown the tide of song. 
She inherited from her grandfather the political sover- 
eignty of her native dominions not only, but the brilliant 
talents and ancestral superiority that made her Empress 
in the realm of Taste, and Queen of the courts of Love. 

"When the gay and licentious Duke "William felt the in- 
firmities of age coming upon him, he determined to seek 
the readiest means to rid himself of the burden of his sins. 
Accordingly, he resolved to resign the most potent sceptre 
in Europe to the unpractised hand of his youthful grand- 
daughter, and devote the rest of his days to prayer and 
penitence in a hermitage of the rocky wilderness of St. 
James de Compostella. Eleanor had not attained her fif- 
teenth year when her grandfather commenced his career of 
self-denial, by summoning the baronage of Aquitaine to 
transfer their allegiance to herself; and the child-sov- 
ereign exercised the royal functions of her new dignities 
while the duke visited the court of Louis le Gros and ofler- 
ed her hand to the young prince. The wise lawgiver of 
France readily accepted the proposal — for the rich prov- 
inces which constituted the dower of Eleanor, held alle- 
giance to the crown, only by feudal tenure ; and the son, 
equally impatient for the possession of his fair prize, set o3 
with a noble train for Bordeaux. The light heart of Elea- 
nor was easily won by the unrivalled attractions of Louis le 
Jeune, whose courtly graces were illuminated by the pros- 
pect of the crown of Charlemagne ; while the damsels that 
composed her court, exercised their blandishments with 



ELEANOR. 121 

cruel skill uj^on the too susceptible liearts of the cavaliers 
that canie in the train of the bridegroom. The parlia- 
ment of Love deliberated day by day in mock solemnity 
upon the pretensions of the fair rivals, and the discreet de- 
cisions of Eleanor, the presiding genius of the conclave, in- 
spired the songs of Trouveres and Troubadours, who vied 
with each other in celebrating her charms. 

A succession of long, bright days, closed the month of 
July, and on the last evening the court of Love continued 
its session till the brilliant twilight had faded from the 
western sky, and the mellow harvest-moon poured a silver 
flood upon fountains that sprang as if instinct with life to 
catch and fling the shining radiance upon the gay company 
that still lingered in the Rose Pavilion. The Queen of the 
court, attired like Venus, sat upon a throne, canoj)ied with 
Acaeia, through whose trembling leaves the light fell play- 
fully contending with the envious shadows that seemed 
striving to hide her smiles. At her feet sat her favorite 
page, with wings framed of gauze attached to his shoulders, 
holding a lyre, fashioned to resemble the bow of Cupid, 
upon which he occasionally struck a few notes to announce 
a change in the evening's entertainment. Lovely maidens 
arrayed as Nymphs and Graces reclined upon verdant 
couches around the fair arbitress of these amorous debates. 
Groups of light-liearted girls, representing heathen god- 
desses, listened encouragingly to their favorite minstrels, 
and strove, by various subtle arts, to win the meed of praise 
to the verse that celebrated their charms. Sirventes and 
Chansons had been recited and sung, still the assembly lis- 
tened with an air of impatience, as if anticipating matters 
of more general interest. With a smile that at once excit- 
ed and bafiled curiosity, the Queen touched the cheek of 
her page with her flowery sceptre, saying, " Why slumbers 
the har]3 of my pretty Peyrol ? Has he no song for the ear 
of his lady ?" 

" Peyrol cannot sing in the Romance Walloon," said the 
youth, casting down his eyes with jealous pique. 

" Proud one," replied the queen, " thou knowest that 



122 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

though the lord ofoui and no7i delights our eye, his language 
charms not our ear. We would hear a pretty faibleaux of 
Grenada, or wilt thou give us a fitting apostrophe to the 
court, where Gaiety and Innocence preside." 

"Nay, honored lady," said the page, " since Gaiety and 
Innocence parted company on the plains of Pleasure, har- 
mony hath forsaken the lyre, and not even the goddess of 
Love can heal the discord." 

" Thou pratest, pert boy," replied the queen, with a stolen 
glance at Petronilla. 

Perceiving from her tone, that he had presumed too far, 
the page bent over his harp and rapidly swept his fingers 
across the strings, saying apologetically, 

" If my lady will accept a lay of Bretagne, Peyrol 13 
ready to do her bidding." 

" The sweet tones of the langue d'oc little befit the rugged 
legends of the northern clime," said the queen, " but tune 
thy lyre without further parley." The page needed no 
second command, but sang : — 

1. la a province fair of sunny France, 
Beside a winding river, 

Over whose waves in joyous dance. 
The sunbeams gleam and quiver, 
Stood a castle tall, a goodly sight. 
With its broad and rich domain. 
And therein dwelt a noble knight ; 
I ween he had a lady bright 
And three sweet babes withouten stain. 

2. A generous heart, an open hand, 
To courtlie companie, 

And eke as any in the land 

For beggars of low degree. 

So gentle his mien in lady's bower, 

So full of courtesie, 

Yet valiant was he in tournament, 

And a good bow in the greenwood bent, 

I wot right dextrously. 

3. He had been blest in his earthly state 
With such fair prosperity, 

That his heart beat high with pride elate, 
Forgot he the givea* good aud great 



ELEANOR. 123 

And christiau Inimility. 
Where.it to punish his arrogance, 
Our Lady sent him sore mischance, 
And dire adversity. 

4. Sir Isumbras to the hunt has gone, 
Riding so gallantly, 

"With hawk and hound in the dewy morn, 

When a vision bright above him born. 

Appeared in the clear blue sky. 

He saw a maiden meek and fair, 

Au angel I wist was she, 

A messenger sent to bid him prepare 

For chill calamity. 

5. A woful man was the knight that day, 
He turned him home in sore dismay. 
When his good steed fell and died, 
And hawk aud hound of life bereft. 
Sir Isumbras in the forest left, 

With no living thing beside. 
When to him there came his little foot page. 
As fast as he might hie. 
My noble master, a sad message. 
It is that I bear to thee. 
" Thy proud castell lies in ruins low. 
Thy lady and children escaped the blow. 
But and with jeopardy." 

6. The knight bowed meekly to heaven's decree ; 
A wiser and sadder man was he, 

And with his lady and children, three, 

Sir Isumbras boune him o'er the sea — 

A penitent pilgrim he would be 

To holy Palestine. 

Through seven weary lands they went — 

Ihe strength of the babes was wellnigh spent. 

For charity, cold was their nourishment. 

They came to a wood, with flowers besprent — • 

To a rapid river of broad extent, 

W here never the sunbeams shine. 

7. His eldest born, Sir Isumbras bore 
With tenderest care to the farther shore ; 
But ere he returned again, 

A lion fierce from the thicket sprang — 
The little one tore from that cruel strand, 
Nor him might they regain. 

8. He found his lady weeping, full lorn, 
For in his absence a leopard strong. 



124 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES, 

"With a fell and bloody unicorn, 
The others from her arms had torn. 

9. The lady wished that she might die, 
Or ever this aore calamity, 
She should have been preserved to see ; 
But the knight with meek humility, 
To Mary mother a prayer 'gan say, 
That his penance might soon have end — 
When wandering through the weary land, 
The Sultan's captives they were ta'en 
Before his face to bend. 

■ 10. I trow the Sultan had rarely seen 
A lady so lovely, in form or mien, 
Or a knight so bold and true. 
" Sir knight, I will give thee gold and fee. 
As much as thou might wish to see. 
If thou wilt renounce Christianity, 
And fight for the banners of Paynimrie, 
And sell thy lady bright to me ;" 
His form to its height he drew. 

11. " Our Lady f^refend that I should e'er 
In infidel ranks a standard bear. 

Or the holy cross betray ; 

And for weal or woe my lady fair, 

I wed in the face of day ; 

A recreant knight I be when e'er 

This right I shall gainsay." 

12. They have putten off his scarlet manteU 
Withm the goldis shred ; 

They drove him from that land of Baal, 
And left him as he were dead. 
The lady was sent to a far countrie, 
The bride of the Sultan she should be. 
When from the wars of Chrisendie 
In triumph he returned. 

13. Asleep in the forest the good knight lay 
And when he awoke at dawn of day 
He saw his treasure borne away, 

By an eagle strong in search of prey — 
No longer he there sojourned. 
To the Virgin he made a fervent prayer 
Invoking for aye her watchful care. 
Then to Palestine he turned. 



f 



I 



ELEANOR. 

14, Through tea long years the knight pursued 
His weary pilgrimage ; 

Then buckled he ou his armor bright, 
With heart bealiug free and light, 
He hath boune him for the fight, 
A gallant and unknown knight 
Withouten heritage. 

15. Much they marvelled then to see 
A warrior, unknown as he. 
Such deeds of valor do. 

They wist he was no mortal wight. 
But some weird magician sprite, 
When in the thickest of the fight 
The Sultan dread he slew. 

16 They have broughten him to the christian king 
With gladness and great welcoming. 
And honor and praise had he ; 
But his object fell he did obtain, 
For his mighty enemy he hath slain. 
He donned his pilgrim weeds again. 
And his wanderings pursued. 

17. The scorching sun, with a feverish glare. 
On the burning sands cast radiance clear ; 
When weary and faint the knight drew near, 
Where stately and tall a castle fair 

From a green oasis rose. 

The cool palms waving in golden light, 

With music of murmuring fountains bright, 

Beckoning called the fainting knight 

To bowers of repose. 

18. He passed the portals of the hall, 

Aud stood 'moug squires and good knights tall, 
Holding it seemed high festival. 

19. A lady beautiful to see, 

Sat 'neath a gorgeous canopy. 
She was queen of that countrie, 
Lady of generous chivalry. 
And eke of lowly charity. 
The holy Palmers with reverence, 
Welcomed she to her residence ; 
Gentle and kind was she. 

20. But the knight would not be comforted, 
For restless recollection shed 

A sadness over all. 



125 



126 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

In silent mood be wandered 
Through tower and lofty hall. 

21. It fell on a day the Queen with her guest 
Were seated at the mid-day feast, 
When entered her favorite page in haste. 
In the early morning he went in quest 
Of eaglets' eyries, and on the crest 

Of a lofty mountain he found a nest. 
With golden treasure hid in its breast, 
Wrapped in a scarlet mantel. 

22. No sooner beheld she the page's prize, 
Than the tears o'erflowed the ladle's eyea. 
My true and loyal knight she cries, 

(The palmer looked on with mute surprise.) 

Hast thou Sir Isumbras seen ? 

One moment they gazed in silent survey 

The mists of memory rolled away ; 

And locked withm his arms she lay — 

The lost one found again. 

And there was feast and festival ; 

Resounded then through bower and hall, 

The lute and joyous madrigal ; 

And joustings there were in tournament, 

And breaking of lances in compliment. 

To the beauty of ladies bright ; 

Then over the Sultan's fair domain, 

In peace the knight and lady reign ; 

Till the king in all sincerity. 

Strove with pious zeal to free 

From the bonds of Infidelity, 

His Paynim lieges hight. 

23. But no one there his cause upheld, 
Save God and the Queen, I trow ; 
And were they e'er so valorous, 
Never could they withstand 

An armament so numerous. 
As the unbelievers' band. 

24. Then by a chance miraculous, 
The tide of war was turned. 

As they might be sent in our Lady's name. 

Three knights came pricking o'er the plain, 

As if the ground they spurned. 

Came the first on a lion strong ; 

On a leopard the second was borne — 

The third bestrode a unicorn. 

Tall men and brave were they ; 

The hosts of the Saracens fled in dismay, 



I 



ELEANOR. 127 

And repenting of their disloyalty, 
Returned tliey tlieu to their fealty; 
And the knight and lady peacefully 
Together with their children, three 
Restored to them so happily, 
Reigned in tranquillity, 
Prosperously and long. 

25. They lived and died in good intent ; 
Unto Heaven their souls went. 
When that they dead were, 
Jesus Christ, Heaven's king, 
Give us aye his blessing, 
And shield us aye from care. 

Rousing herself from the abstraction that had prevented 
her hearing the song of her i^age, the queen remarked, 
"Thy story is somewhat long, and for ourself we would 
have preferred that the husband had won the holy estate 
of martyrdom 'neath the sword of the Soldan. But thou 
hast rhymed it right dextrously, and we opine that the 
moral of thy lay accords well with the ascetic mannejs of 
the north." She extended her wand. The herald then 
stood forth, and sounding a few notes on a chalumeaux, 
cried, 

" Comes there no cause of Arrets d'amour, 
Our gracious liege and sovereign before, 
From lady, knight, or troubadour ?" 

The flute-like call was thrice repeated, and then a low 
response to the challenge issued from a mimic grotto, curi- 
ously roofed with overhanging vines. 

" The minstrel of our sister Petronilla has leave to pre- 
sent her cause before our court," said the queen encoura- 
gingly, as the troop of the young princess advanced from 
the shadow into the clear light, and knelt at the footstool 
of justice. 

" The lady Peti-onilla," began the Troubadour, " arraigns 
before the court her recreant knight. Count Rudolph of 
Yermandois. Cold greeting gives he for her fair looks, 
scant courtesy for her warm smiles ; his ungloved hand 
returns not the pressure of her slight fingers, and the ban- 
derol she sent him flutters not from his gleaming lance." A 



128 HEKOINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

slight pause followed this accusation, and the herald again 
stood forth and demanded if any minstrel or. Troubadour 
could say aught in extenuation of the ofi'ence of the ac- 
cused. ITot a voice answered, not a harp string stirred. 
At the third call the page of Eleanor arose, and with a 
graceful obeisance begged to be heard. 

" Rudolph of Yermandois," said he, " witnesseth by me, 
that since he set lance in rest to do his devoir for the 
fair Adelais of Champaigne, his eye and smile, and heart 
and hand, as loyal husband and true knight, are due and 
devote to her alone." 

A general murmur attested the disapprobation of the 
assembly at this new and strange defence ; for it had al- 
ready become a proverb in Guienne, that "True love 
cannot exist between married persons." The importance 
of the action, however, elicited a brilliant contest among 
the rival Troubadours, and never was a case more warmly 
argued, more skilfully enveloped with the subtleties of 
logic, or more thoroughly transpierced with the sallies of 
wit, than that which arose from the efforts of the wily 
granddaughter of Philippa of Toulouse, to fascinate the 
husband of the granddaughter of Adela, Countess of Blois. 
The fair jurors finally, like their successors in modern days, 
rendered their verdict in accordance with preconceived 
opinions, independent of justice or argument. The de- 
fence being thus found invalid, the culprit was put under 
ban of the court, and all true ladies were forbidden to 
smile upon him, except by the grace of his slighted lady- 
love. The fairy camj) then adjourned its sitting to receive 
the royal guests, who were already on the way to meet 
them. As Eleanor accepted the assistance of her lover to 
climb the terraced j^athway leading to tLe castle, she said 
with her most bewitching smile, ""We consign our young 
-ister, Petronilla, to the care of our noble cousin of Yer- 
mandois." The count dissembling his reluctance bowed 
and offered his hand to the sprightly sorceress, and the 
queen whispered her sister, "The hawk is hooded, it must 
be thine to bind his Jessies." 



ELEANOR, 120 



CHAPTER II. 

"Where is the antique glory now become, 

That while some wont in woman to appear ? 

Where be the bold achievements done by some ? 

Where be the battles, where the shield and spear ? 

And all the conquests which them high did rear 

Be they all dead, or shall again appear ? Spenske. 

The first of August, 1137, rose upon a brilliant ceremo- 
nial. The princely capital of Bordeaux glittered with all 
the splendor that Guienne, and its dependent fiefs could 
supply ; for on that day the native subjects of Eleanor as- 
sembled to accept the resignation of Duke William, and 
to give the hand of their liege lady in marriage to the heir 
of France. Though Eleanor was sufficiently dazzled by 
the prospect of ruling in the court of Paris, she had the 
sagacity to accept the proposal of her barons and refuse 
her consent to the arrangement, till by charter and deed she 
had secured inviolate the laws and customs of Aquitaine, 
and the administration of the government to herself alone. 
Upon the conclusion of the ceremony the duke laid down 
his robes and insignia of sovereignty, and in presence of his 
loving subjects and weeping grandchildren, took up the her- 
mit's cowl and stalf and departed on his lonely pilgrimage. 

The royal cortege set out the following day for the north, 
resting only at the principal towns, where the young duke 
and duchess received the homage of the feudal lords. 

At Blois, the Count of Yermandois, who had by circum- 
stances that seemed to him wholly accidental been forced 
to give his constant attendance upon the artful Petronilla, 
embraced once more his beautifttl Adelais, and pleading 
her ill health, obtained permission of the prince to absent 
himself for a time from court. The disappointed Petro- 
nilla could scarcely conceal lier chagrin at this unlooked- 
for interruption in her proceedings, and from that moment 
conceived the most violent hatred of her innocent rival. 

9 



130 HEROINES OP THE CRUSADES. 

On their entrance at Paris, instead of the enthusiastic 
greeting and splendid festivities which Eleanor had an- 
ticipated, the bridal party was escorted through silent 
streets by weeping attendants, who conducted them to the 
death-bed of Louis VI. The great legislator of France 
gazed with a look of solemn benignity upon the youthful 
pair that knelt to crave his parting blessing, and remind- 
ing them, that their recent union involved not only their 
individual happiness, but the peace and prosperity of both 
the north and the south, added with his expiring breath, 
" Remember, royalty is a public trust, for the exercise of 
which a rigorous account will be exacted by Him who has 
the sole disj)osal of crowns and of sceptres," 

On the conscientious mind of Louis, the words of his dying 
father made a deep impression ; but his thoughtless part- 
ner was no sooner crowned Queen of France, than she en- 
tered upon her career of folly, exerting all her talents, and 
exercising all her influence in the exciting games of court 
intrigue. The impassioned verse in which Abelard cele- 
brated the beauty and love of the gifted but frail Heloise, 
furnished employment for Eleanor's Provengal minstrels, 
and formed the topic of general remark among the minions 
of the court. She assisted the persecuted monk in his 
defence before the Council of Sens, and after his death 
caused his body to be conveyed to the chapel of the Para- 
clete, and consigned to the care of the melancholy Heloise. 
She persuaded Louis that the services of his prime minister 
Yermandois, were indispensable at Paris, and thus, again, 
brought that nobleman within the charmed sphere of 
Petronilla's attractions. She contrived, at the same time, 
to secure for herself a devoted admirer in the Count of 
Ponthieu, who became the agent of her slightest wish. 
Through his gallantry she succeeded in involving the beau- 
tiful Adelais in some matters of court scandal, and thus by 
exciting the jealousy of the Count of Vermandois, and ex- 
posing him to the bewitching spells of her sister, she finally 
persuaded him to divorce his lovely and amiable wife, and 
espouse the desigtiing Petronilla. 



ELICANOR. 181 

Adelais sought to hide her soiTdW and her wrongs in the 
seclusion of a C(»nvent; but her brother, the valiant Count 
Thibault of Champagne, was not inclined to suffer the in- 
dignity in silence. Such, however, was Eleanor's power 
over the plastic mind of her husband, that the count ap- 
pealed in vain to the sympathy or justice of the king 
Finding that his remonstrance could not reach the royal 
ear, he presented his cause before the pope, who compelled 
Yermandois to put away the guilty Petronilla, and take 
back the injured sister of Chamj)agne. The repudiated wife 
enraged at her own dishonor, and incensed at the undissem- 
bled joy with which Yermandois exchanged her dazzling 
graces, for the long-regretted charms of the weeping 
recluse, again had recourse to Eleanor, The queen, not 
less vindictive than her sister, and more practised in diplo- 
mac}^, succeeded in fanning an ancient feud between Louis 
and Count Thibault, into the flame of war. The king in- 
vaded Champagne at the head of a large army, and com- 
menced a devastating progress through the province. The 
town of Yitry, strongly walled and fortified, for a long 
time resisted the royal forces ; but the queen, whose ap- 
prehensions of the ten^perate counsels of Suger, prompted 
her to accompany her husband upon every occasion, pri- 
vately commissioned a body of Gascons to set fire to the 
town at the very moment of its surrender. The flames 
spread from house to house, and finally extended to the 
cathedral, and thirteen hundred persons who had taken 
refuge there, were burned to death. The king stung by the 
cries of his perishing subjects, exerted himself for their 
rescue, but in vain ; and the horrors of the scene made 
such a fearful impression on his mind, as seriously to aflect 
his health. The vision of his lamented father, repeating 
in solemn tones, " Kemember, my son, that royalty is a 
public trust, for the exercise of which a rigorous account 
will be exacted by Him who has the sole disposal of crowns 
and of sceptres," haunted his slumbers and destroyed his 
rest. Queen Eleanor journeyed with him from one holy 
place to another, to entreat the prayers of pious monks in 



132 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES, 

his behalf, but the dejection of his mind increased to such 
an extent, that even her insinuating blandishments failed 
to recall him from his gloomy contemplations. Wearied 
with fruitless endeavors, she petulantly remarked to Petro- 
nilla, who now triumphed in the possession of a new lover, 
the young Count Maurienne, " Fate has given me the name 
of queen with the destiny of a nun. Would we were again 
in our native realm, for I tire of this dull life. Instead of 
the gay minstrelsy of the sweet southwest, I am jaded 
with perpetual psalmody, and my attempts to beguile the 
weary hours with the 'joyous science,' are mocked with 
the mummery of muttered prayers. I have married a 
monk rather than a monarch ;" and the mortified queen 
burst into tears. 

While this state of feeling subsisted between the con- 
science-stricken Louis and his discontented consort, news 
of the fall of Edessa and the conquests of Noureddin reach- 
ed Europe, and the sagacious Eleanor saw, in the general 
sympathy which the intelligence excited, the means by 
which she might make the melancholy of Louis the instru- 
ment of her own pleasure. She forsook at once her gay 
amusements, joined her husband in alms, deeds and prayers, 
expressed the greatest pity for the misfortunes of their royal 
cousins, and constantly wished that she might be permitted 
to lead her brave Provengals to restore the gallant Courte- 
nays to their lost principality of Edessa. The gracious 
change in the character of Eleanor delighted the penitent 
monarch, and he began to listen with interest and pleasure 
to her oft-repeated suggestion, that a pilgrimage would 
prove an acceptable jjenance for the misdeed at Vitry. 
Animated by a renewed hoj^e, he called a council of the 
clergy and nobility of his kingdom to deliberate on the 
propriety of an expedition to the Holy Land, and by their 
advice despatched deputies to gain the sanction of Pope 
Eugenius. The vicar of Christ entered readily into the de- 
sign, and commissioned the famous St. Bernard, abbot of 
Clairvaux, to preach the Second Crusade. Louis and his 
queen, and all their court, atteudod on the ministry of the 



ELEANOR. 188 

holy man, and such crowds flocked to listen to the eloquent 
eamt that no cathedral, however large, could contain thera. 
His auditors were imj)ressed by his sanctity, persuaded by 
his enthusiasm, and carried away by his zeal. "The cross !" 
"The cross!" was echoed from every tongue. Louis and 
his queen were the tirst to adopt the holy symbol, and as 
the multitudes that j)ressed forward to follow their pious 
exam^ile soon exhausted the supply already prepared, the 
reverend orator tore his monkish garment into small pieces 
and fixed them to the shoulders of his kneeling converts. 

Encouraged by his success, St. Bernard passed into Ger- 
many, and every city and village from Constance to Carin- 
thia responded to the call of war. Those who understood 
not even the language which he spoke, were awed by his 
gestures, and the dignity of his demeanor, and the miracles 
that accompanied his presence. The mind of the emperor 
Conrad III. was moved by his startling delineations of the 
judgment day, when punishment should be inflicted upon 
the idle, and heavenly rewards showered upon the faithful, 
and openly professed that the Lord of the Germans knew 
and would perform his duty to the church. 

The romantic purpose of becoming a female crusader 
now com^^letely occupied the light head of Eleanor, and 
as she was in the very plenitude of her charms, and pos- 
sessed sufficient wealth to practise any extravagance, she 
soon made it the fashion among all the vain sentimentalists 
of her court. The absurd arrangements which she made 
for the campaign, gave little promise of rational conquest. 
The female recruits sent their useless distafls and embroi- 
dery-frames to all the knights and nobles who had the good 
sense to suppose that Heaven would be better pleased with 
"leir remaining in peace at home, than by their going 
tbroad to destroy their fellow-men ; and this ingenious 
•aunt had the desired eifect upon the doughty knights, 
who, fearing a woman's raillery, joined an expedition to 
Syria to prove their valor. The fair warriors clothed them- 
selves in helmet and hauberk, having golden crosses taste- 
f[i]l\- (jinhroideri-'d upon the left shoulder; gilded slijipcrs, 



134 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

glittering spurs, and silver-slieathed falchions suspended 
from the side completed the equipment, and mounted on 
richly-caparisoned steeds, they formed a brilliant squadron, 
caricoled about Paris and performed a thousand fantastic 
follies in public, calling themselves the body-guard of the 
Golden-footed Dame. 



CHAPTER III. 

A voice, a flute, a dreamy lay, 
Such as the southern breeze 
Might waft, at golden fall of day 
O'er blue transparent seas. 

Louis took the cross in 1146, and in the following year, 
having received from the pope the consecrated banner as a 
warrior, and the staff and scrip as a pilgrim, set out for the 
general rendezvous atMentz with his queen and her grotesque 
cavalcade. Here they were joined by an immense number 
of nobles and knights and soldiers, among whom were cru- 
saders from England and the remote islands of the northern 
sea. After the lapse of half a century, the second crusade, 
consisting of two hundred thousand people, tracked their 
way along the banks of the Danube by the whitening bones 
of those who had fallen victims to the blind fanaticism of 
the first expedition. Manuel Comnenus, who now sat on 
the throne of Constantinople, adopted the same policy that 
had distinguished the councils of his grandfather, Alexius. 
His envoys, bearing letters filled with flattery and fair 
speeches, met the adv^ancing warriors, but the imperial 
guides were instructed to conduct the soldiers of the west 
by difiicult and circuitous routes, and the purveyors had 
secret orders. to furnish them with sacks of flour mixed with 
chalk and lime. Conrad, who was the brother-in-law of 
Manuel, was so indignant at this breach of hospitality, that 
he crossed the Bosphorus without meeting or conferring 
with the emperor — but the splendid city of Constantinople 



ELEANOR. 135 

presented, too many attractions to the female adventurers 
to be passed in so hurried a manner. 

The wily Comnenus soon perceived that the readiest 
means to divide the forces of the crusade would be to amuse 
the fickle Queen of France. All the voluptuous refinements 
of the Greek court were accordingly put in requisition to 
detain his unwelcome visitors, and if the avaricious Bohe- 
mond was bribed with the contents of a treasure-chamber 
in the palace, Eleanor might well be excused if her frivo- 
lous fancy was captivated by her splendid suite of rooms 
adorned with all the luxury of eastern magnificence, and 
the richly-attired slaves that waited her slightest bidding, 
and when at last they set forward, the Damascene silks, 
costly jewels, and precious gifts, which Manuel showered 
upon the finery-loving Amazons, added not a little to the 
cumbrous baggage with which the thoughtless queen loaded 
the expedition. 

Louis, lulled into security by the flattering assurances 
of Manuel, had lingered in the Greek empire till the defeat 
of Conrad at Iconium, when convinced by the report of the 
discomfited Germans, of the treachery of his royal host, he 
set forward with his troops along the coast of Asia Minor. 
They passed Thyatira, Sardis, and Philadelphia without ac- 
cident, defeated the Turks on the banks of the Meander, 
and arrived in safety at Laodicea, The freaks of Eleanor 
and her female warriors were the cause of all the misfor- 
tunes that afterwards befell the French army. On the sec- 
ond day after leaving Laodicea, their way led up the moun- 
tains, by a winding and difiicult ascent. The prudent king 
sent forward the queen and her ladies, escorted by his 
choicest troops, under the guard of Count Maurienue, 
charging them to entrench themselves upon the M^ooded 
heights that overlooked the valley of Laodicea. Himself 
followed slowly with the rearguard, encumbered by the 
useless baggage, and harassed by the Arabs. The Count 
Maurienne, with Petronilla by his side, rode gallantly up 
the steep, and halted at the place appointed, but when 
Eleanor reached the spot she was so attracted by the ap- 



136 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

pearance of an adjacent valley, cooled by waterfalls, and. 
shaded by thickets, which seemed to beckon them on with an 
inviting grace, that she insisted upon pressing forward, and 
forming the bivouac there. The Count Maurienne endeav- 
ored to dissuade the queen from her purpose, by represent- 
ing the danger of abandoning the commanding position 
designated by the king, but opposition only increased her 
pertinacity, and aided by the light artillery of Petronilla's 
eyes, she soon brought the discomfited knight to terms. 
The scene that opened before them as they descended into 
the valley, was sufficient to charm away all fatigue and 
fear. The rocky heights at the west, behind which the sun 
was just sinking, veiled their bold fronts in the misty 
fringes of the opal clouds ; the blue Mediterranean circled 
the horizon on the south ; and far to the east stretched every 
variety of woodland, meadow, and glade, till the Taurus 
ridge, melting into the sky, shut out the sands of Syria. 
The happy party soon entered the valley. The sumpter 
mules were speedily unloaded, the light spars planted, the 
white canvass of the tents stretched upon them, and a cold 
collation spread out for their refreshment. When the re- 
past was finished Eleanor caused her couch to be placed 
at the door of the tent, so that wild roses nodded at its 
pillow, and flinging herself upon it, as the brilliant stars 
of that eastern clime looked down upon her, she exclaimed, 
" Petronilla, my sister, seems not this like our own dear 
Provence ? I could almost fancy myself once more in the 
Rose Pavilion." 

" Certes," said Petronilla, " and were it not a fitting time 
and place to hold the festival of our Court of Love? Me- 
thinks yon, count," with a mischievous glance at Maurienne, 
" M^thstood our entreaties to enter this delightful retreat 
beyond the limits of gallantry." 

" Gra'mercy, fair ladies," said the count, with mock 
gravity, " that I fear the frowns of this august tribunal 
more than the displeasure of my royal master, is perhaps 
my sin, and it is with unfeigned apprehensions that I sur- 
render to the court." 



ELKANOR. 137 

" I accuse the count — ■" began the princess. JVIaurienne 
interrupted her, " Petrunilla my accuser! Then am I lost 
indeed. I had hoped to hear her eloquent lips plead my 
excuse." 

" Nay ! nay !" said Eleanor, striking the velvet turf with 
her tin}' foot. "The court forbids these disorderly proceed- 
ings. Henry de Blois, arrest thou the Count Maurienne 
at the complaint of the princess, bind his hands with 
this string of pearls, and confront him M'ith his accuser. 
Our brave Warrenne, take thy spear and stand senti- 
nel by yon copse. A prowling Saracen would make an 
awkward addition to our goodly company. Knights and 
ladies, recline at ease upon these verdant cushions. When 
the cause of this culprit shall have received verdict, per- 
chance your own delinquencies may pass review." 

" Heaven forefend !" exclaimed a chorus of voices, 
mingling ejaculations with merrj" laughter and gay pas- 
quinade. 

The queen, now in her element, succeeded in quelling the 
tumultuous mirth, though an occasional titter was elicited 
by the solemn visages of Maurienne and Petronilla, who 
played their part to admiration. 

"Where is the petulant Peyrol ?" inquired the queen, 
looking round the circle, " we can no more proceed with our 
important affairs without the aid of song than could the 
prophet without the inspiration of music." 

" Peyrol, my liege, attends upon the king," replied a 
Spanish cavalier, who had recently rode so constantly by 
the side of the queen that the courtiers dubbed him her 
saddle-beau. 

" Gonzalvo," returned Eleanor, " we have heard that thou 
stringest a lute upon occasion. Let not our pastime be 
marred by the defection of this truant boy. Give us a 
Moorish ballad, if thy memory serves thee with nothing 
better. Our royal spouse will be here anon and summon 
us to prayers." 

" I am but a poor pilgrim, and little skilled in the 'Joy- 
ous Science,' " said the Spaniard, with affiected modesty ; 



138 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

" but the command of my queen must give me the fitting 
inspiration." He touched a melodious prelude, and sung 
in a clear, manly voice : — 

1. "la minstrel of Greuada, Gonzalvo Bereio higlit, 

Ouce wandering as a pilgrim, found a meadow richly digbt, 
Green and peopled full of flowers, of flowers fair and briglit, 
A place where many a weary man would rest iiiin with delight. 

2. " And the flowers I beheld all looked and smelt so sweet, 

That the senses and the soul they seemed alike to greet, 
While on every side ran fountains through all this glad retreat. 
Which in winter kindly warmth supplied, yet tempered summer's heat. 

S. "And of rich and goodly trees there grew a boundless maze, 
Rich grapes and apples bright, and figs of golden rays. 
And many other fruits beyond my skill to praise. 
But none that turneth sour, and none that e'er decays. 

4. "The freshness of that meadow, the sweetness of its flowers, 
The dewy shadows of the trees that fell like cooling showers. 
Renewed within my frame its worn and wasted powers, 
I deem the very odors would have nourished me for hours." 

An arrow that pierced the tent, and fell among the 
strings of the minstrel's harp, interrupted the symphony, 
and called forth discordant screams of terror. A moment 
after the Earl of Warrenne, breathless and bleeding, rushed 
into the assembly, and communicated the startling intelli- 
gence, that the Turks had taken possession of the heights 
allotted for their encampment, and that the king, unaware 
of his danger, was proceeding to the snare, sj)read for 
his whole army. Maurienne hastily cast away his mimic 
fetters, and counselling his lovely charge to remain as close 
as possible beneath the shadow of the trees, stationed a 
small guard to defend them, and hastened back to the as- 
sistance of his sovereign. 

The Syrian moon now rose broad and clear in the east, 
and the frightened females, huddling together like a flock 
of timid sheep, could distinctly see the heavy-armed troops 
on which rested all their hopes, toiling slowly up the moun- 
tain, in the face of a tremendous shower of arrows and loose 
masses of stone which the Moslems threw upon them from 
above. Men, horses and baggage, overborne by the sudden 



p:leanor. 139 

attack, rolled down the precipitous steep, and the expiring 
cries of familiar voices could be distinctly heard through 
the still air. Maurienne soon succeeded in putting to flight 
the Arabs that had attacked the vanguard, but the most 
dreadful havoc was made among the followers of Louis, 
and the king himself was only saved by the greatest efforts 
of personal valor. Seven thousand of the flower of French 
chivalry paid with their lives the penalty of the queen's 
caprice. The baggage containing the fine array of the 
lady- warriors, was plundered by the Arabs, and the frag- 
ments of their dainty suj^jDcr was the only provision left for 
their sustenance. 

The further progress of the French was beset with dan- 
gers and jDrivations. The discipline of the army was broken, 
and they marched or rather wandered, for they knew not 
the roads, along the coast of Pamphilia, purchasing or plun- 
dering food of the frightened inhabitants ; and famine 
thinned the ranks with such rapidity, and so many horses 
and other beasts of burden perished by the way, that it 
was finally determined to turn aside from these scenes of 
desolation and proceed by sea to Antioch. But upon reach- 
ing the coast, a new difficulty occurred. A sufficient num- 
ber of ships could not be procured to transport them all, 
and the brave peers of France, with honorable pride, agreed 
that the simple pilgrims, with the women and children, 
should alone make their passage with the king, while them- 
selves should continue their route on foot. Louis distribu- 
ted what money hs had among the soldiers, who were left 
to surmount the higher difficulties of the land route, and 
engaged a Greek escort and guide to conduct them, and 
taking leave of the miserable beings who had followed him 
to their own destruction, went on board the ships. The es- 
cort soon deserted the French soldiers, the guide betrayed 
them, and but few if any ever reached Syria. 

The royal party arrived at Antioch in a condition little 
short of beggary ; but Prince Raimond, the uncle of Elea- 
nor, opened his hospitable gates to them, and by the beau- 
tiful stream of the Orontes, the distressed warriors of the 



140 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

cross refreshed themselves after their fatigues, and the 
thoughtless queen regained once more her roses and her 
smiles. Kecent experience had greatly cooled her military 
ardor, and the gaiety of the court of Antioch presented 
greater attractions to her fancy than a journey over the 
sandy plains of Syria. Prince Raimond, wishing to avail 
himself of the panic which a new arrival of crusaders had 
spread among the Turks, to extend the limits of his own 
territories, set himself at once to prevent the immediate de- 
parture of Louis for Jerusalem. The prince was the hand- 
somest man of his time, and directly began to pay the most 
assiduous court to his lovely niece. The queen, flattered 
by his attentions, commenced such a series of coquetries 
with him as greatly scandalized and incensed Louis ; but 
it was not till she attempted to persuade her husband to 
join liaimond in an expedition against Cesarea that she 
found she had at last irritated the kind monarch beyond the 
limits of forbearance. Louis left her in anger, and depart- 
ed with his forces for Jerusalem, where he was received 
with the greatest joy. Crowds of ecclesiastics and laymen 
going out to meet him, conducted him within the holy gates, 
singing, " Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the 
Lord." 

Disappointed in the assistance of Louis, Raimoud deter- 
mined to secure an ally in Saladin, a young Emir of the 
Sultan. Eleanor, who was at this time moping with chagrin 
at the desertion of her husband, first saw the handsome 
barbarian at a Passage of Arms given by Raimond for her 
amusement, in which the dark-browed Saracen drove a 
javelin through the target with such skill and grace as 
completely pierced her heart. She immediatel}'" conceived 
the idea that if she should convert this powerful Infidel to 
the Christian faith, she should achieve a greater conquest 
than all the forces of Christendom. Prince Raimond, who 
gladly availed himself of any attraction that should detain 
the Arab chief within the walls of Antioch, smiled upon her 
pious project. But to bring a follower of the Prophet de- 
voutly to consider the tenets of the Latin church, required 



ELEANOK. 141 

more familiar intercourse and a greater exercise of personal 
influence than the ceremonious observances of Eastern so- 
ciety permitted, or the strictly virtuous deemed quite dis- 
creet. The zealous queen, however, scorned to be control- 
led by such fastidious considerations. Her apartments 
opened upon a terrace which conducted to a garden filled 
with every variety of odoriferous shrub and fragrant flower, 
at the foot of which a clump of olive-trees spread abroad 
their arms to hide a mossy seat from the intrusive rays of 
the sun. A little wicket concealed by vines led from the 
garden into the street, and Eleanor kept the key. Through 
this wicket she admitted her young disciple, and in this re- 
treat, with missionary zeal, commenced her efibrts for the 
conversion of the Mussulman. It was some time before 
the European and Asiatic succeeded in coming to a perfect 
understanding ; for though Saladin was tolerably well 
versed in the Lingua Franca, his vocabulary comprehended 
little else than those terms used in common intercourse or 
war. Whether the philosophers of that day had taught 
that though some languages may be deficient in expressions 
of abstract ideas, all are replete in the dialect of love, cer- 
tain it is, that both teacher and pupil became aware of the 
fact in their own particular case. But it was no part of 
Eleanor's religious plan to entangle herself in a mesalli- 
ance, and when the fascinated Emir began to stammer 
forth his admiration, she playfully told him she could un- 
derstand love only in the Provengal tongue. The Saracen 
took his departure, and though she watched anxiously for 
the arrow tipped with the eagle feather, by which he was 
wont to announce his coming, she saw him not again for 
twenty days. When the long-wished-for token at length 
appeared, and the handsome youth in his crimson robe and 
green baldric stood again before her, his face radiant with 
joy, and his dark eyes sparkling with delight ; when she 
heard him pour forth his eloquent passion in the loved Pro- 
vengal, with all the fluency and ease of a native, she al- 
most fancied a miracle had been wrought, and felt con- 
vinced that not to lead each talents to the bosom of the 



142 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

church would be a grievous sin. The Saracen, soon per- 
suaded her that love for her alone had endowed him with 
supernatural powers, and the delicate flattery determined 
her to exercise to the fullest extent the influence that could 
produce such wonderful eflects. The young Emir belted 
his tunic with a silken girdle several yards in length. 
Upon this ribbon Eleanor, still intent upon her design, em- 
broidered a cross which the youth accepted with his accus- 
tomed gallantry, saying, " I worship the Divinity it repre- 
sents." The next day he brought her a casket of diamonds, 
and an ivory box filled with the sweetest perfumes. As he 
reclined at her feet she opened the box, and twining his 
raven hair about her fingers poured the i>recious liquid 
upon his head. 

Peyrol who from his childhood had regarded the queen 
with the impassioned devotion of the south, had hardly 
consented to share her heart with Louis. Since her mar- 
riage, her ambition for conquest had kept him constantly 
in a state of jealous excitement. His interested eyes had 
been the first to discern her stolen interviews with Saladin ; 
and on the day of lier acceptance of the diamonds, he con- 
trived to secrete himself in the garden, and thus witnessed 
the whole aftair. Convinced of her danger, he set off" 
direct for Jerusalem, to advertise Louis of her conduct, and 
while Eleanor fancied herself doing God service in her ef- 
forts to convert the lord of the Saracens, though at some 
slight sacrifice of personal delicacy, the king arrived at 
Antioch, and hurried her away with small leave-taking of 
her uncle, and without even allowing her a jDarting inter- 
view with her heathen convert. Eleanor submitted to this 
unaccustomed harshness of her husband, with a very ill 
grace. She attempted to explain to him that she was do- 
ing more for the preservation of the Sepulchre than King 
Baldwin himself. She expressed the most violent anger at 
being the object of unfounded suspicion, and entered the 
Holy City in a most indignant mood. The upright mind 
of Louis could not be made to comprehend the piety that 
led to such an ebullition of temper, nor could he well ap- 






ELEANOR. 143 

predate the purity of a motive that induced a wife to ex- 
change 2)resents with a lover ; and from this time all con- 
fidence between them was at an end. The Queen of France 
was, notwithstanding, received and entertained at Jerusa- 
lem, with all the honors due her rank ; but Peyrol was 
instructed to watch her movements, and prevent any further 
communication with Raimond. 

A council was held at Ptolemais, composed of the chris- 
tian powers of Syria and Palestine, and the crusaders from 
Europe, and though the restoration of the Courtneys to 
their lost principality was the object of the expedition, it 
was decided that Damascus was a far more dangerous 
neighbor to Jerusalem than the remote city of Edessa. 
The decree to march to Damascus was accordingly passed, 
and the kings Louis YII., Baldwin III., and Conrad III. 
brought their troops into the field. 

The best disciplined parts of the army were the Knights 
of the Temple, and of St. John. In the early days of 
pilgrimages, an institution for the care of the sick had been 
established in Jerusalem. In this friendly hospital the 
wounded and dying of the first crusade were received and 
tended with the greatest care. King Godfrey with affec- 
tionate gratitude rewarded their pious labors by the gift of 
an estate in Brabant, whence they derived a steady revenue. 
The association acquired importance, and finallj' formed 
a religious house under the tutelage of St. John the Baptist. 
They took the usual vows of chastity, poverty, and obedi- 
ence, and the patriarch of Jerusalem invested them with 
a black robe, having a white linen cross of eight points 
upon the left breast. 

In A.D. 1113, the Hospital was put under the protection 
of the Holy See, and their revenues increasing beyond the 
demands of charity, about a.d. 1130, they determined to 
draw the sword against the enemies of the faith. The 
Hospitallers were accordingly arranged into three classes, 
nobility, clergy, and serving brothers, who divided their 
duties between making deadly war upon the Infidels, heal- 
ing the wounds of the Christian soldier, and praying for 



144 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

the souls of the departed. The admirers of valor and piety 
either joined their standard or enriched their coffers. Great 
men sent their sons to them for instruction, and the Knights 
Hospitallers soon became a powerful monastic and military 
order. 

A few years later, some French gentlemen founded the 
equally honorable institution of the Red Cross Knights. 
The original design of this order, was to watch the road 
and keep open the communication between Europe and the 
Holy Land. At first they were fed and clothed by the 
Hospitallers, and to indicate their poverty, adopted a seal 
with the figures of two men on one horse. They bound 
themselves to the three great monastic virtues, and added 
some austerities, which were supposed to give them power 
with God and man. They were originally styled Milites 
Christi, but when Baldwin I. assigned them a residence in 
the royal palace, adjacent to the Temple of Solomon, they 
assumed the title of Templars, or Knights of the Temple. 
They wore linen coifs with red caps close over them, shirts 
and stockings of twisted mail, sapra vests and broad belts 
with swords inserted, and over the whole was a white cloak 
touching the ground. This order, too, rose into dignity 
and power ; and the military friars of the Hospital, and 
the Red Cross Knights of the Temple, soon became the 
bulwark of Christendom, " the nurse of manly sentiment 
and heroic enterprise." 

Acquainted with the roads, the Templars led the way to 
Damascus, and accustomed to succor the weak, the Hospi- 
tallers brought up the rear of the Christian army. The 
eastern and southern quarters of the city of Damascus 
were defended by impregnable walls ; but the north and 
west were faced by fields and gardens, and protected only 
by towers and ditches. Here the crusaders pitched their 
camps ; and numerous and long-continued were the en- 
gagements between the Christians and Moslems. They 
succeeded in driving in the outposts of the Infidels and 
seizing several fortifications looked upon Damascus as their \ 
own. But now a more serious contest arose. Should Da 



ELEANOE. 145 

niascus become an appanage of Jerusal^i, a fief of the 
French crown, or a German jjrincipality ? Days and weeks 
passed away in fruitless disputes among the crusaders, and 
at length it was determined that the prize should be given 
to the Count of Flanders, because he had twice visited the 
Holy Land, This decision only increased the dissatisfac- 
tion. There were rumors of treason in the camp, and the 
Templars were accused of accepting bribes. A proposition 
was made to remove the camp to Ascalon, and while de- 
bate fostered delay the Saracens had time to repair the 
fortifications of Damascus, and to summon assistance from 
the Saltan, The German emperor, terrified with the report 
that the Emir of Mosul was marching to the city, was the 
first to abandon the siege ; and the other leaders, discontent- 
ed with themselves and with each other, gloomily retraced 
their steps to Jerusalem. Conrad, with the shattered relics 
of the German host, immediately returned to Europe ; but 
the king of the French lingered several months, visiting 
the holy places, and seeking opportunities to do military ser- 
vice worthy the expedition ; till at length learning from Pey- 
rol that Eleanor, through the connivance of Petronilla, had 
exchanged letters v^'ith Saladin, and was meditating a flight 
to Antloch ; he gathered together the miserable remnant of 
his army, amounting to three hundred persons, and accom- 
panied by his enraged queen and her crest-fallen Ama- 
zons, embarked for Constantinople. Here Eleanor found 
some small consoLition in repairing the sad inroads made 
upon her Avardrobe at the defeat of Laodicea. From 
Constantinople the dissatisfied pair sailed for France. 

It was the intention of Louis to put away his wife imme- 
diately on his return, but the sagacious Abbot Suger dis- 
suaded him from this course, since he would thus detach 
from the crown the great duchy of Aquitaine, the probable 
inheritance of the voung Princesses Mary and Alix, She 
was, however, closely watched, and forbidden to visit her 
southern domains, Li a,i). 1150, Geofii-ey Plantagenet, 
the Count Anjou, came to the court of Louis VTL, with 
his son Henry, a youth about the age of Saladin, whose 

10 



146 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

fine person and literary attainments made him an object of 
attraction to all the ladies of Paris. To Geoffrey Eleanor 
confided her troubles, one of the greatest of which was, the 
I'efusal of the king to adopt the conrtly adornings of the 
times, particularly the long-toed shoes, fastened to the knee 
by golden chains ; and she was especially vexed that he 
had, at the suggestion of the clergy, parted with his long 
curls, handsome beard and mustachios. 

" Already," said she, " he wears the shaven chin and 
the serge robe, and he needs only the tonsure and cowl to 
make him a priest." 

The duke repaid her confidence by delineating his own 
domestic afflictions arising from the haughty demeanor of 
his consort the Empress Matilda, whose irritable temper 
had not been improved by her ineffectual struggles with 
Stephen for the throne of England, Altogether they had 
a very sympathizing meeting. 

Two years after, Henry of Anjou once more visited Paris 
to do homage for his domains, and the queen with a facili- 
ty acquired by practice, transferred to him the partiality 
she had entertained for his father. The young Plantagenet 
was a noble, martial-looking prince, with a fair and gra- 
cious countenance, and eyes that sparkled with intelligence 
and energy. In the light of this new attachment, Eleanor 
discovered that King Louis was her fourth cousin, and 
farther that the divorce he had threatened was a matter of 
conscience and propriety. Louis for the first time in many 
years seemed to find happiness in the same plan that 
pleased his queen. A council of the church was called at 
Beaugencie, and in the presence of Eleanor and Louis, and 
a numerous circle of relatives, the marriage was declared 
invalid on account of consanguinity. 

Leaving her daughters in the care of their father, the 
liberated princess joyfully departed with her sister Pe- 
tronilla and her Provengal attendants to ' er own country. 
On her way southward she stopped soivc time at the castle 
of Blois, where the old Count Thibant, father of Adelais, 
whose domestic peace she had so selfishly invaded, became 



EI;EANOR. 147 

enamored of the great Provence dower, and offered his 
hand to his fair guest. Unabashed by the lady's prompt 
refusal, the venerable suitor determined to detain her a 
prisoner in his fortress till she should comply with his prop- 
osition ; but Pejn'ol accidentally learning the design, dis- 
guised his mistress and her sister in his own apparel, con- 
ducted them through the postern by night, and procuring 
a fisherman's boat, escaped with them down the Loire. 
Here a new danger awaited them. Geoffrey of Anjou, the 
young brother of Henry Plantagenet, captivated by the 
charms of the princess, stationed himself with a strong 
guard, at the Pont de Tas, with the intention of carrying 
her off. Before the fugitives reached the spot they per- 
ceived the ambush, and the royal ladies, each seizing an 
oar, concealed their faces by bending to their tasks, while 
Peyrol ingeniously evaded the questions of the sentinel, by 
displaying the fishing-tackle and turning the boat into a lit- 
tle creek, as if preparing to commence the morning's sport. 
Hidden by the willows that shaded the stream, the party 
pursued their way with the utmost rapidity, and before the 
count had discovered their escape, they were beyond the 
reach of capture. 

The enthusiastic greetings with which the Proven9als 
hailed the return of their beloved duchess, had scarcely 
subsided into the quiet demonstrations of affectionate obe- 
dience, when the young Henry Plantagenet followed her 
to Bordeaux, and in that wealthy city, with all the pomp 
that the luxurious Provengal could command, they were 
married the first of May, a.d. 1152. Thus the sweet prov- 
inces of the south became the appanage of the English 
crown, and a foundation was laid for those desolating wars 
that for centuries drained the best blood of both France 
and England. 



148 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 



CHAPTER IV. 

" Imperial being ! e'en though many a stain 
Of error be upon thee, 
There is power in thy commanding nature." 

Heney immediately conve3'ed his bride to ISTormandy 
and installed her in the palace at Bayeux, once the resi- 
dence of the family of William the Conqueror. The mar- 
riage of Eleanor, but little more than a month after her di- 
vorce, astonished all Europe. Especially was the King of 
France incensed by a union which made his already too 
powerful vassal lord of seven more beautiful and wealthy 
provinces. 

He immediately entered into an alliance with Stephen 
to deprive Henry of Normandy, and incited the baffled 
Geoffrey to make war upon his brother. 

" Let the stupid king do his worst," said Eleanor to her 
husband, as she despatched Peyrol to order the vessels of 
Bordeaux into the English Channel. The barons of oc and 
no will raise the banner of St. George and the golden leop- 
ards far above the oriilamme of France, and rejoice at hav- 
ing such fair cause of quarrel with the suzerain and jailer 
of their princess." 

The Proven gal fleet that was thus brought to guard the 
coast of England, was of essential service to Henry in 
quelling the agitations excited by Louis not only, but in se- 
curing his peaceful accession to the throne of his grand- 
father, Henry I. During the six weeks that elapsed after 
the death of Stephen, before he was ready to assume his 
crown, the maritime power anchored in the English harbors 
preserved the public tranquillity, and kept all foreign ene- 
mies in awe. Henry and Eleanor, with a brilliant train, 
landed on the coast of Hampshire, at the beginning of De- 
cember, A.D. 1154, and proceeded direct to Winchester 



ELEAXOK. 149 

The pVelates and nobles gathered round tLeni from every 
part of the kingdom, and their journej from Winchester to 
London was a continual triumph. 

Their coronation, which took place in Westminster Ab- 
bey, was without parallel for magnificence. The silks, 
brocades, and velvets shot with silver or embroidered with 
gold, which the new queen had brought from Constantino- 
ple, and the jewels which she had hoarded as mementoes 
of her self-denying efibrts in Palestine, served to illuminate 
this august ceremony. The dark beauty of the south wore 
her long, black hair closely braided, and bound about her 
head, like an eastern tiara, from which flashed the diamonds 
of her Paynim lover like jewels set in jet. Her snowy 
kirtle, of the finest Indian fabric, confined at the throat by 
a collar of gems, and fastened by a jewelled belt at the 
bodice, fell in an amplitude of drapery to her feet, and the 
same transparent vesture covered, without concealing, the 
exquisite roundness of her arms. Over this was thrown an 
elegant pelisson, bordered with fur, having full loose sleeves, 
lined with ermine. In fine contrast with his sparkling 
queen, stood Henry, the first monarch of the warlike Plan- 
tagenets. The Saxon lineaments predominated in his face 
and person, the wealth of his brown locks, and his thick, 
curling mustachios gave an air of manliness to bis some- 
what boyish visage, but his calm youthful countenance was 
not at that period marked with the strong and violent pas- 
sions that afterwards kindled in his eye, and darkened in 
his frown. He wore a doublet of crimson damask, and a 
short Angevin cloak, which gained for him the soubriquet 
of Courtmantle. The ecclesiastics who graced this cere- 
mony also appeared in gowns and cassocks of silk and vel- 
vet, another importation of Eleanor from Constantinople. 
After the celebration of the Christmas festivities, the royal 
pair took up their residence in Bermondsey, a pastoral vil- 
lage, nearly opposite London, where was an ancient Saxon 
palace and a priory. 

While Eleanor remained in this quiet retreat, ETenry de- 
voted his energies to settling the affairs of his government, 



150 HEROINES OF THK CRUSADES. 

with a prudence and discretion beyond his years. In one 
council, he appointed the great officers of the crown ; in 
another he confirmed to his subjects, all the rights and 
liberties secured under the famous charter of Henry Beau- 
clerk, in a third he induced the barons to do homage to 
his eldest son William, and in the event of William's death, 
to his second sou Henry, a child in the cradle. He de- 
molished many of the castles reared by the rebellious barons 
under Stephen, dismissed the foreign mercenaries or Bra- 
bancons, that had long infested the kingdom, and compell- 
ed Malcolm, grandson of David and Maude, to exchange 
three northern counties for the earldom of Huntingdon, 
which the King of the Scots claimed as the descendant of 
Earl Waltheof. Daring the stormy period of Stephen's 
reign, the ecclesiastical tribunals had acquired an authority 
above the judicial courts ; and it was the ardent desire of 
the monarch to reform this abuse. He owed so much, 
however, to the friendship and constancy of Theobald, 
archbishop of Canterbury, that he found it difficult to work 
any innovation upon the jurisdiction of the church so dear 
to the heart of his venerable friend. Eleanor occupied in 
her own pleasures, and it is charitably to be hoped in the 
duties of a mother, took little interest in these afi'airs ; for 
the death of her eldest boy, and the birth of a daughter, 
had in some sort awakened her mind to maternal respon- 
sibilities. She was particularly solicitous with regard to the 
tutor to be chosen for her son Henry, and herself made a 
visit to the archbishop to confer upon the subject. A few 
days after the king entered her apartments in an unusually 
facetious mood. 

" The good Theobald," said he, " who suffiared banishment 
for ni}'- mother, has parted with his right hand to benefit her 
son. He has sent us his own archdeacon as a tutor for Henry." 

" And how looks the candidate for our favor ; is he fair 
and wise ?" asked Eleanor. 

" JSTay, for that," said Henry, " the archbishop, with his 
wonted sagacity, has shown due regard for the tastes of the 
family, since the man he has sent is half Saxon, half Saracen." 



KLEANOU. ' 151 

" A Pullaiii," exclaimed Eleanor, her curiosity at once 
excited. " I met many of this class in Palestine. Comes 
he direct from the Holy Land ?" 

" ISTay, he was born in London, and except some of the 
characteristics of his wily race, is as good a Christian as 
ever attended mass. His father, Guilbert Becket, was 
taken captive in the first crusade, and confined in the 
palace of an emir. The daughter of the Infidel fell vio- 
lently in love with the young Christian, liberated him by 
night, and pawned her jewels to a band of roving pirates, 
to engage them to convey him safe to Europe. Thither 
she followed him through a great variety of dangers, re 
plying only 'London,' 'Guilbert,' to all who questioned her. 
These two magic words brought her to the meti-opolis, 
where she found the object of her search. She was bap- 
tized by the Saxon name of Matilda, and Becket rewarded 
her devotion by marrying her. Tliomas a Becket was 
their only son. He passed his childhood under the care 
of the canons of Merton ; he has studied in the schools of 
Oxford and Paris, frequented the lectures on Philosophy 
at Bologna, been bred in a thorough knowledge of the 
civil and canon law, has visited Kome, stands high in the 
favor of pope and primate, and with all these qualifications," 
added Henry, in a tone of exultation, "Ae is not a priest.''^ 

Eleanor was delighted -with the story, and Becket was im 
mediately installed as tutor of Prince Henry. Becket's 
romantic origin, aff'able manners, but more especially liis 
nice tact in exhibiting intelligence or ignorance, according 
to the demands of delicate emergencies, recommended him 
at once to the favor of both king and queen. The princi- 
pal residences of the royal family were Westminster palace, 
Winchester, and the country palace of Woodstock, the 
favorite abode of Henry Beauclerk and Matilda the good. 
In this charming retirement, Eleanor amused herself and 
the ladies of her court, with mysteries and mummeries, 
contrived and acted by the priests and parish clerks. 
Even the miracles of the holy volume were degraded 
from their sacred character, and made the subjects of 



152 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

clumsy efforts at merriment. Eleanor, who delightcJ n 
Bcenic amusements, on one occasion instructed the raaste-, .^f 
ceremonies to dramatize the miraculous trials of St. Dnnstan. 
So many characters were necessary for this important play, 
that newi-ecruits of abbots, clerks and scholars were imported 
from the neighboring priory, and the queen's dames d'hon- 
neur were enlisted in the choir, and faithfully drilled in 
the chanting of most unearthly melodies. The usual 
services in the chapel were for several days omitted. The 
carpenters displaced the priests, and instead of the sound 
of matins and vespers, the walls echoed with the noise of 
workmen's hammers, preparing a false floor for the mimic 
purgatory. The trees of the park were robbed of their 
leafy honors, to fit up a forest over the high altar, which 
by the removal of a panel, and the addition of dry leaves, 
pebbles and mosses, answered very well for the hermit's 
cave. The eventful night arrived, and expectation, so long 
on tiptoe, quietly settled itself upon the temporary benches 
to enjoy the intellectual treat, while an imaginary moon 
broad as the shield of their Saxon fathers, reflected the 
light of a supposed invisible torch placed behind a window 
shutter. Owing to the imperfection of the machinery there 
was some difficulty in raising the curtain, but the queen 
was privately informed that the creaking was not intended 
as part of the play. The learned and gifted Proven9al 
must be pardoned if she exchanged some sly criticisms 
and satirical smiles, with the witty Peyrol, at the expense 
of the well-meaning performers. 

The scene opened disclosing a barren heath, in the centre 
of which was a mound of rubbish, strewed with grass and sur- 
mounted with a huge stone, which had been transplanted with 
much care and labor, from an adjacent cromlech. , By its side 
8tood a youth, who bashfully hanging his head and awkward- 
ly twirling a wand, thus unfolded the plan of the drama : — 

" Here you see this hill and stone, 
For that you may know anon. 
The story of the blest St. Dunstan : 
For dun is hill, and stone is stane, 
That is what this here shall mean. 



ELEANOR. 153 

To the holy Saiut was trouble sent, 
As we here shall represent — " 

When young Harlequin bad concluded bis prologue, he 
paused in great embarrassment staring up at the curtain, 
till finding that it refused to fall be stepped to the side of 
the stage and assisted its descent with all bis strength. 

A considerable bustle then ensued behind the scenes, 
during which the audience amused themselves as is usual 
in such cases, by suppressed titters and whispers. 

The reluctant curtain again rose, and instead of the nota- 
ble hill and stone, the individual typified thereby, St. Dun- 
stan himself appeared, a burly Saxon priest wedged into 
his altar-cave ; an appropriate arrangement admirably 
adapted to the tradition, since he could neither sit, stand, 
nor lie down at ease in it. The holy man was professedly 
engaged at his devotions, rattling off" credos and ave ma- 
ries in a style showing a lamentable want of familiarity 
with Latin. The arch tempter was a little behind his time, 
for the saiut had evidently exhausted his stock of prayers, 
and had commenced a repeat when Lucifer appeared in 
the disguise of a laborer M'ith spade in hand. Approach- 
ing the cave, he held out a bag of gold and invited the 
holy Father to follow him. The hermit impatiently waved 
his hand and turned his eyes resolutely away from the glit- 
tering lure, while the baflied demon walked off" the stage. 
Confused groans and shrieks from the imps beneath follow- 
ed his departure, while the choir of unseen angels sung 
with great em23hasis — 

" With gold he doth the saint assail, 
But not with this can the devil prevail." 

The next scene was of a more striking character. The 
monk M^as this time interrupted by the advent of a beauti- 
ful damsel, who, gliding like an apparition of light from 
the greenwood, stopped before the cave, showered roses 
upon his missal, and in the most enticing manner sought to 
win him from his devotions. The saint, liowever, remained 
firm, and when she laid hold of his arm, he snatched a pair 



154 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

of i^iiicers, conveniently heated for the occasion, and zeal- 
ously seized the sorceress by the nose, who first cried pite- 
ously and then bellowed most lustily — but the heart of the 
pious priest was not to be moved. In the struggle, the 
glittering mask unfortunately fell off, carrying with it the 
whole apparatus of the flimsy disguise, and a saucy-looking 
page, thus unexpectedly revealed, scampered off the stage, 
much to the discomfiture of the players and greatly to the 
amusement of the spectators. This contre-temjps produced 
a most uncommon roaring among the demons below, while 
the choir sung with renewed vehemence — 

" With love he doth the saint assail, 
But not with this shall the devil prevail." 

Hardly had the cheering and laughter subsided, when 
the curtain rose the third time. A sulphurous vapor filled 
the apartment, and from a trap-door in the staging, amid 
mimic thunders and faint attempts at lightning, rose his 
Satanic majesty, m. propria persona^ with the usual adjuncts 
of horns, hoofs and tail. As if to strengthen the trembling 
saint for the final conflict, the choir reiterated with great 
excitement — 

" With fear he doth your heart assail, 
But not with this shall the devil prevail." 

The fiend advanced with diabolical grimace, and the 
whole staging trembled beneath his tread, while the terri- 
fied devotee shrank to the farthest corner of the cell, and 
throwing his huge arms round the wooden crucifix, told his 
beads with startling volubility. It was evidently the fiend's 
object, to detach St. Dunstan from the cross ; but the broad- 
shouldered priest was more than a match for the sturdy 
boor, encumbered as he was with the trappings of his new 
dignities. A terrible struggle ensued, but such was the 
desperate energy with which the saint grasped the holy 
symbol, and so intimately was it connected with the whole 
design of the performance, that in attempting to drag the 
priest from its protection, the btout yooniun tore the cruci- 



ELEANOR. 155 

fix from the altar, the forest from its foundations, and while 
the choir were preparing to vociferate a splendid song of 
triumph, friar and fiend, angels and apparatus were precip- 
itated into the yawning purgatory beneath. At the same 
moment, the man with the moon abruptly set, leaving tlie 
chapel in total darkness. The musical pitch wavered and 
quavered, and terminated in shrieks of affright, and the 
audience, apprehensive that the devil had not yet his due, 
fled in most undignified haste. It was not until the queen 
had reached her own apartments, and her tire-women one 
after another came hurrying to her presence in ludicroue 
disarray, that she forgot her fright and gave way to a ge- 
nial burst of merriment. The forlorn damsels at lengfli 
found it impossible not to join in her mirth, and every fresh 
arrival was hailed with irrepressible peals of laughter. 

" Welcome, my angeliques," cried the queen. " I feared 
that your late promotion would unfit you for mortal duties ; 
but I perceive, with pleasure, that a foretaste of the punish- 
ment that awaits the unfaithful, has rendered you more 
than usually alert this evening. For ourself, we feel the 
necessity for repose, and will gladly be disrubed for oui- 
couch." 

Notwithstanding the unsuccessful efforts of her Saxon 
clerks, Eleanor was not discouraged. She summoned from 
Blois a celebrated abbot named William, who, under hci 
patronage, and assisted by her genius, brought out his tra- 
ged}- of Flaura and Marcus, the first appearance of the reg- 
ular drama in England. 



156 HEKOINES OF THE CRUSADES. 



CHAPTER V. 

For close designs and crooked counsels fit, 
Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit ; 
Restless, unfixed in principle and place, 
In power unpleased, impatient in disgrace. 

Thomas a Becket had risen rapidly in the royal favor. 
His calm discrimination and cool judgment had made him 
the chosen counsellor of his patron, his sedulous attention 
to his puj^il had won the heart of Eleanor, while his courtly 
qualities and knightly address made him. popular with all 
classes of people. The king conferred uj)on him the honors 
of Eye, the wardenship of the tower of London, and made 
him chancellor of the realm. The versatility of his accom- 
plishments enabled him to adapt himself to Henry's vari- 
ous moods, and he thus became the monarch's inseparable 
companion. The rapidity of his rise was equalled only by 
the splendor of his course. He rivalled the king in the 
appointments of his household, exercised the most un- 
bounded hospitality towards those who visited the court, 
and became the medium through which the subjects com- 
municated with their sovereign. The king was his frequent 
guest, and the monarch and the favorite seemed bound by 
ties of real friendship. Queen Eleanor had removed her 
court from Woodstock, to the palace of Beaumont, in Oxford, 
where the celebrated Coeur de Lion was born, a.d,, 1157. 
On the receipt of this pleasing intelligence, the king 
set oif with his chancellor and train to join his family. 
As they rode along, conversing upon terms of the most 
easy familiarity, a miserable beggar followed them asking 
an alms. The king carelessl}'' bestowed a few pence, and 
the chancellor observing the tattered garments of the men- 
dicant, facetiously remarked, that the command was no^ 
to feed the huni^ry alone, but to clothe tlie naked. 



ELEANOE. 157 

"Thou sayest triitb," said the king, "and art thyself 
worthy to illustrate thy own doctrine." 

So saying, he seized the chancellor's cloak, and began 
pulling it from his shoulders. The favorite resisted this 
charitable impulse, and put spurs to his horse. The king, 
however, retained his grasp, and urged his steed to keep 
pace with that of the close-fisted courtier, and betwixt their 
struggles and laughter, both had nearly been rolled in the 
dirt. Becket, finally, released his hold, and the wondering 
beggar wrapped his shivering limbs in the finest mantle in 
the kingdom. 

As their road wound through the rich meadows of Even- 
lod, they caught occasional glimpses of the nunnery at 
Godstow, half-hidden among the trees, and before they 
reached the outer line of the convent walls, they saw at a 
short distance before them, crossing a rustic bridge, the 
figure of a beautiful girl, mounted upon a coal-black steed. 
The ease and grace with which she reined the mettlesome 
animal, the exquisite symmetiy of her form, set oflT by the 
rich drapery of her robe, first attracted the king's notice. 
Her hair of a golden brown escaping from a turban-like 
riding-cap, floated like a veil over her shoulders, and air 
and exercise imparted a brilliant bloom to a face of lily 
fairness, and gave additional lustre to eyes, whose mir- 
ror-like depths seemed formed to reflect the light of heaven. 
Henry instinctively drew rein as the beautiful being dash- 
ed across their way and struck into a bridle-path, followed 
by a venerable-looking serving man, in green livery. 

" What dazzling vision is this ?" said Henry, pausing as 
if to recall a half-forgotten memory. " I have seen that 
face before, or my eye is, for the first time, at fault." 

" The appointments of the servant are those of the Clif- 
Drd's," said Becket, coldly. 

" And what is the name of the fair creature with the 
golden locks ?" pursued Henry. 

" If it be the daughter of Lord Walter de Clifibrd, her 
name is Rosamond," said Becket, little inclined to satisfy 
the m'»-Kirch'8 inquiries. 



158 ilEKOlNES OF THE CRUSADES. 

" Walter de Clifford !" said the king, with a thrill of rec- 
ollection. " I mind me now, when the King of Scotland 
laid the sword of knighthood on my shoulder, it was the Lord 
de Clifford that buckled on my spurs ; and this fair girl, 
then a child of exquisite beauty, sat among the maids of 
the queen, who presided at the tournament. A king bred 
in a foreign land must needs be a sad stranger in his own 
realm. Canst thou point me to the home of this fair dam- 
sel?" 

Becket, who perceived that the impetuosity of the mon- 
arch would not brook evasion, answered ; " Clifford castle 
is some two days' distance, on the banks of the Wye. The 
Lord de Clifford has been a crusader in Palestine this 
many a year, and his daughter, who after her mother's 
death, was in care of the nuns of Godstow, is haply on her 
way to the convent. The serving man, I see, is old Adam 
Henrid, her seneschal." 

*' Let us push on," said Henry, " to-night we sup at God- 
stow. Much I wonder," he added, musingly, " if the sweet 
girl holds in recollection the image of the boy knight." 

" Becket," he added, aloud, " there is little about me to 
betray the king. I will be to-night, the simple Duke of 
Maine. Be thou my squire. Our men in attendance may 
proceed to Oxford." So saying, the impatient monarch put 
spurs to his horse, and galloped forward followed by his 
reluctant courtier, and alighted at the nunnery just after 
Rosamond had been received within its walls. The sound 
of the bell brought to the great gate of the convent the 
portress, summoned from her evening meal, and still hold- 
ing in her hand the bunch of leeks and slice of brown bread, 
which formed the repast. 

" And what wouldst thou, sir knight ?" she inquired, 
gruffly. 

" Best and refreshment," said Henr^^, in French. " We 
are weary travellers, and seek shelter for the night." 

"Ye are from beyond the sea," replied the portress, 
" and we will none of your outlandish tongue. Yonder lies 
';he way to Oxford." 



ELEANOR. 159 

" Becket," whispered the king, " let thy ready wit serve 
us in this time of need, and thou shalt not find thy lord un- 
grateful." The wily chancellor, who never lost the oppor- 
tunity of laying the monarch under obligation to himself, 
instantly rejoined in Saxon to the nun, 

" Open to us, good mother. The Duke of Maine is a zeal- 
ous patron of the church, and perchance thine own convent 
will be none the poorer for granting him entertainment." 

The mollified portress immediately admitted them, mut- 
tering apologetically, "The wayfarer and benighted are 
ever received with Christian charity, by the sisters of the 
blessed St. Bernard." 

The infant Richard was a child of great promise, and his 
ambitious mother began, at once, to plan for his future ad- 
vancement. She besought her husband to bestow upon 
the prince the dukedom of Aquitaine, and to permit her to 
convey him thither, to receive the homage of the barons, 
and to arrange a betrothment between him and Philippa, 
the infant daughter of her sister Petronilla and Ra^'mond 
of Arragon. To her great joy and surprise Plenry acceded 
at once to the proposal, and co-operated in her scheme for 
remaining some time as regent in her southern dominions. 

Louis YII., King of France, had given his two daughters 
by Eleanor, in marriage to the Counts of Blois and Cham- 
pagne ; and after the death of his second wife Constantia, 
conferred the crown matrimonial upon their father's sister, 
Adelais of Champagne, widow of the famous Rudolph of 
Yermandois. He also bestowed upon the Count of Cham- 
pagne the ofiice of seneschal of his kingdom, which of 
right belonged to Henry, as Duke of Anjou, who, enraged 
at this measure, made war upon his liege lord. The afltair 
was finally compromised by the affiancing of Henry's eldest 
son with Louis's third daughter Marguerite. Henry and 
Eleanor repaired to Normandy to celebrate the nuptials, 
and Becket was sent to Paris to bring the young bride to 
Rouen. On tliis important occasion the chancellor trav- 
elled in the greatest state. When he entered a town two 



160 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

hundred and fifty boys singing national airs led the j)ro- 
cession, while from wagons covered with skins and pro- 
tected by guards and dogs the populace were regaled with 
draughts of English beer. Other wagons, each drawn by 
five horses, led by servants in splendid livery, followed with 
the furniture of his chapel, bed-chamber and kitchen, his 
I^late, wardrobe, and attendants. Then came twelve sump- 
ter horses each carrying a groom and monkey ; then the 
esquires, gentlemen's sons, falconers with hawks upon their 
wrists, ofiicers of the household, knights and clergymen, and 
last of all Becket himself in familiar converse with a few 
friends. The French, when they saw an ambassador af- 
fecting a magnificence greater than their own sovereign 
could command, exclaimed, " What manner of man must 
the King of England be, when his chancellor travels in 
such state." The King of France received Becket with the 
most distinguishing courtesy, and committed the infant 
Marguerite to his care. Becket conveyed the little princess 
to Rouen, where the contract of marriage was solemnized, 
and the juvenile bride and bridegroom were committed to 
him for education, and Louis gave to Henry three cities as 
the dower of his daughter. 

But a misunderstandino; arisinoj with regard to the mat- 

o o o 

ter, a fresh compromise was effected by another match. The 
death of the little princess of Arragon had left the hand of 
Richard again at liberty. This hand was given as a pledge 
of amity to Alice, the infant daughter of France, who was 
also conveyed to England for education. It was the policy of 
Henr}' to strengthen his government by powerful alliances : 
and these early marriages were followed in quick succession 
by similar unions between Geoffrey his third son and Gun- 
stance the heiress of Bretagne, and his eldest daughter 
Matilda with Henry the lion Duke of Saxony. 

In the midst of these domestic and political arrange- 
ments Theobald, Archbishop of Ganterbury, died ; and the 
king entered upon his long-meditated design of reforming 
the abuses of the church. He had loaded Becket with 
every demonstration of favor and affection, and counting 



ELEANOR. 161 

confidently upon liis co operation, offered him the vacancy. 
The chancellor objected that he was not a priest, but Henry 
insisted that the time re(]^uired to take orders was only a 
few hours. Still the chancellor seemed to decline the daz- 
zling gift. He protested that were he once a bishop he 
must uphold the rights of the church, and solemnly told 
the king the night before his consecration that the mitre 
would interpose an eternal barrier between them. Henry 
persisted, and Becket at last modestly accepted the first 
office in the kingdom. 

Directly on his investment the new archbishop became 
as much distinguished for his austerity as he had before 
been for his ostentation. . He resigned his office of chan- 
cellor, dismissed his knightly train, clothed himself in sack- 
cloth, fed upon the coarsest fare, drank water nauseous 
with fennel, and daily upon his knees washed the feet of 
thirteen beggars, whom he afterwards dismissed with alms. 
On all occasions he defended the rights of the church in 
opj)osition to those of the crown. As he was the most 
learned man in the kingdom, the most eloquent and the 
best beloved, he possessed unbounded influence with all 
classes, and Henry soon found in the man whom he trusted 
as an ally a most powerful adversary. 

But the king did not on this account relinquish his plans 
for reform. A parish priest had been guilty of murder 
under circumstances that peculiarly aggravated the crime. 
The judicial courts sought to try the criminal. The bishop 
contended that degradation from office was the highest 
punishment that could be inflicted upon a son of the church. 
The affair created great sensation throughout the kingdom, 
and ITenry finally convened a general council of the no- 
bility and clergy. Several articles, were drawn up called 
the Constitutions of Clarendon, the drift of which was that 
no churchman should be entitled to privileges greater than 
those enjoyed by his peers among the laity. Becket at 
first refused to sign the articles and the other bishops fol- 
lowed his example. Being threatened with exile or death 
he at length yielded ; but afterwards, learning that the 

11 



162 HKROINKS OF TUE CRUSADES. 

pope did not approve his course, he retracted his consent. 
The kino- incensed at the conduct of his favorite, ordered a 
succession of charges to be prepared, on which the arch- 
bishop was cited to trial. Becket declined the juiisdiction 
of the court and appealed to the pope, finally escaped across 
the sea and made his way to the King of France. 

Troubles in Aquitaine had made it necessary for Eleanor 
to take up her abode there, where, in company with her 
children, she remained some time exercising the functions 
of regent with great ability. To detach Prince Henry, who 
was enthusiastically fond of his tutor, from the party of 
Becket, the king sent for him to be crowned at Westminster, 
and admitted to a share of the government. But when the 
princess Marguerite found that Becket, the guardian of her 
youth, was not to place the diadem upon her head, she 
trampled upon the coronation-robes, and perversely refused 
to leave Aquitaine for London. King Louis took up his 
daughter's quarrel, and entered Normandj^ at the head 
of an army. LEenry hastened to defend his domains, and 
hostilities were commenced, but the two raonarchs had 
a private conference, and Henry finally promised to seek 
an immediate reconciliation with his exiled primate. The 
archbishop of Rouen and the bishop of Nevers were au- 
thorized to arrange an interview, and the King of England 
awaited the arrival of his rebellious subject in a spacious 
meadow, on the borders of Touraine. As soon as Becket 
appeared Henry spurred on his horse, with his cap in hand, 
thus 25i"eventing any formal recognition, and discoursed 
with all the easy familiarity of former days. At the 
gracious words of his master, the archbishop descended 
from his horse, and threw himself at the feet of his sov- 
ereign ; but Henry laid hold of the stirrup, and insisted 
that he should remount, saying, 

" Let us renew our ancient affection for each other, — only 
show me honor before those who are now viewing our be- 
havior." Then returning to his nobles, he remarked, " I 
find the archbishop in the best of dispositions towards me ; 
were I otherwise toward him I should be the worst of men." 



ELEAKOK. 163 

The" king, however, adroitly avoided giving the kiss of 
peace, a circumstance which the primate observed, and 
made the subject of the most gloomy presage. Having 
waited in vain for the money which Henry had ^^romised 
him, Becket borrowed a sum sufficient to defra}^ the ex- 
penses of the journey, and contrary to the advice of his 
friends, returned to his diocese. He despatched a letter to 
the king at Rouen, which closed thus : — 

" It was my wish to have waited on you once more, but 
necessity "compels me, in the lowly state to which I am re- 
duced, to revisit my afflicted church. I go, sir, with your 
permission, perhaps to perish for its security, unless you 
protect me ; but whether I live or die, yours I am, and 
yours I shall ever be in the Lord. Whatever may befall 
me or mine, may the blessing of God rest on you and your 
children." 

Before the meeting between Becket and the king, the 
pope had issued letters of suspension against those who had 
assisted at the coronation of the young prince, and Becket 
returned to England with those letters upon his person, and 
immediately j^roceeded upon the work of excommunication. 
These tidings were conveyed to Henry by the first ship that 
sailed for Normand}-, and the outraged monarch exclaimed 
in a fury of passion, " Of the cowards who eat my bread 
is there not one to rid me of this turbulent priest ?" Four 
knights, at the head of whom was Reginald Fitzurse, im- 
mediately set out for England, and proceeding straight to 
Canterbury, entered the house of the archbishop, and re- 
quired him, in the king's name, to absolve the excommuni- 
cated prelates. Becket refused, and repaired to the church 
with the utmost tranquillity to evening vespers. The sol- 
emn tones of the organ had ceased, and the archbishop had 
opened the book and commenced the lesson of the martj'r- 
dom of St. Stephen, " Princes sat and spake against me," 
when the knights, with twelve companions, all in complete 
armor, bui'st into the church. " Where is the traitor ? 
Where is the archbishop ?" inquired Fitzurse. " Here am 



164 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

I," replied Becket, "the archbishop, but no traitor," He 
read his doom in the eyes of his pursuers. " Tyrant king," 
muttered he, " though I die I will be thy undoing." He 
wrote hastily upon a tablet, " WoodstocJc,^^ and giving it to 
his only attendant, whispered, "Deliver this to Qneen 
Eleanor. Tarry not till thou find her." Then turning 
calmly to the knights, 

" Reginald," said he, "I have granted thee many favors, 
what is thy object now ? If thou seekest my life, I com- 
mand thee, in the name of God, not to touch one of my 
people." 

"I come not to take life," replied Reginald, "but to 
witness the absolution of the bishops." 

" Till they ofier satisfaction I shall never absolve them," 
said the prelate. 

" Then die !" exclaimed the knight, aiming a blow at his 
head. The attendant interposed his arm, which was broken 
and the force of the stroke bore away the prelate's cap, and 
wounded him on the crown. As he felt the blood trickling 
down his face, he joined his hands and bowed his head, 
saying, "In the name of Christ, and for the defence of his 
church I am ready to die." Turning thus towards his mur- 
derers, he waited a second stroke, which threw him on his 
knees, and the third prostrated him on the floor, at the foot 
of St. Bennett's altar. He made no effort towards resistance 
or escape, and without a groan expired. The assassins 
instantly fled, and the people, who had by this time assem- 
bled, crowded into the cathedral. The priests with pious 
reverence took up the body of the dead archbishop, and 
laid it in state before the high altar. They tore his gar- 
ments in pieces, and distributed each shred as a sacred 
relic. The devout wij)ed up his blood and treasured the 
holy stains, and the more fortunate obtained a lock of hair 
from his honored head. Becket was interred with great 
solemnity in Canterbury cathedral, and all the power he 
had exercised in life was but a trifle to the influence of the 
miracles wrought at his tomb. 

Henry was celebrating the holidays in Normandy, when 



ELEANOR. 165 

the news of tliis event threw him into the deepest melan- 
choly. The train of calamities, which would inevitably 
follow the curse of the church, made him tremble for his 
throne, and the natural horror of the crime alarmed his 
imagination and partially disordered his reason. He knew 
not how to receive the murderers, nor yet how to treat with 
the pope, and finally concluded to give the matter over to 
the judgment of the spiritual courts. The assassins in con- 
sequence travelled to Rome, and were sentenced by way of 
expiation to make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. To evade 
meeting the legates of the pope, Henry determined to seize 
this opportunity for his long meditated invasion of Ireland. 

The same month that witnessed the splendid coronation 
of Henry and Eleanor, had been signalized by the succes- 
sion of Nicholas Breakspear, to the throne of the Vatican. 
This prelate, consecrated under the name of Adrian IV. was 
the only Englishman that ever sat in the chair of St. Peter ; 
and his partiality for his native sovereign had led him to be- 
stow upon Henry, a grant of the dominion of Ireland. Now 
when troubles arose in that jjrovince and circumstances 
rendered absence from his own dominions desirable, the 
king led an army into Ireland. 

From the time of the marriage of her daughter Matilda 
with the Lion of Saxony, Eleanor had not visited England. 
The arrival of Becket's messenger in Bordeaux, conveyed 
to her the first intelligence of the prelate's death ; and the 
mysterious word WoodstocJc, immediately revived a half- 
forgotten suspicion excited by the stratagems of Henry, to 
prevent her return to her favorite residence. Her woman's 
curiosity prevailed over her love of power, and she intrust- 
ed the regency to her son Henry, repaired to England, and 
lost no time on her way to Woodstock. As she approached 
the palace, her keen eye scanned every circumstance that 
might lead curiosity or lull suspicion, but with the excep- 
tion of a deserted and unkept look, the appearance of the 
place indicated no marked change. Though she came 
with a small train and unannounced, the drawbridge was 
instantly lowered for her entrance, and the aged porter re- 



166 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADKS. 

ceivecl her with a smile of unfeigned satisfaction. The 
state rooms were thrown open and hastily fitted up for the 
reception of the royal inmates, and the servants, wearied 
with the listless inactivity of a life withoiit motive or ex- 
citement, bustled about the castle and executed the com- 
mands of their mistress, with the most joyful alacrity. 
Under pretence of superintending additions and repairs. 
Queen Eleanor ordered carpenters and masons, who under 
her eye, visited every apartment, sounded every wall^ and 
tore off every panel, where by any possibility an indi- 
vidual might be concealed. She did not hesitate even to 
j^enetrate the dungeons under the castle ; and whenever the 
superstition of the domestics made them hesitate in mortal 
terror, she would seize a torch and unattended thread her 
way through the darkest and dampest subterranean passa- 
ges of the gloomy vaults. All these investigations led to 
no discovery. The pleasance offered little to invite her 
search. It had been originally laid out in the stiff and 
tasteless manner of the age, with straight walks and close 
clipped shrubbery, but so long neglected it was a tangled 
maze, to which her eye could detect no entrance. Below 
the pleasance the postern by a wicket gate communicated 
with a park, which was separated only by a stile from the 
great forest of Oxfordshire. Mounted on her Spanish jen- 
net, Eleanor galloped through this park and sometimes 
ventured into the forest beyond, and she soon discovered 
that the attendants avoided a thicket which skirted the park 
wall. Commanding the grooms to lead in that direction, 
she was informed that it m- as the ruins of the old menagerie, 
located there by Henry I., overgrown by thorns and ivy 
and trees, that shut out the light of the sun. The aged 
porter assured her that no one had entered it in his day, 
that wild beasts still howled therein, and that the com- 
mon people deemed it dangerous to visit its vicinity. 
He added, that one youth who had charge of the wicket, 
had been carried off and never again seen ; and that all 
the exorcisms of the priests could never lay the ghost. 
The old man crossed himself in devout horror an! turned 



ELEANOR. 167 

away ; but tlie queen commanded him to hold the bridle 
of her horse, while slie should attempt the haunted pre- 
cincts alone. The thick underwood resisted all her efforts, 
and she found it impossible to advance but a few steps, 
though her unwonted intrusion aroused the beetles and 
bats, awakened the chatter of monkeys and the startled 
twitter of birds, and gave her a glimpse of what she thought 
were the glaring eyeballs of a wolf. A solemn owl flew out 
above her head as she once more emerged into the light of 
day, and the timid porter welcomed herretui-n with numer- 
ous ejaculations of thanksgiving to the watchful saints ; but 
he shook his head with great gravity as he assisted her to 
remount saying, 

" I would yon dismal bird had kept his perch in the hol- 
low oak. Our proverb says, ' Woe follows the owl's wing 
as blood follows the steel.' " 

Disappointed in the wood, Eleanor relinquished her fruit- 
less search. But by dint of questioning she learned, that 
though the palace wore the appearance of desertion and 
decay, it had been the frequent i-esort of Henry and Becket, 
and since the favorite's death, her husband had made it a 
flying visit before leaving for Ireland. Farther than this 
all inquiries w^ere vain. The unexpected return of her hus- 
band, and his look of surprise and anxiety at finding her at 
Woodstock, again awakened all her jealous fears. His 
power of dissimulation, notwithstanding, kept her con- 
stantly at fault, and during the week of his stay, nothing 
was elicited to throw light upon the mystery. Henrj^ had 
been negotiating with the pope to obtain absolution for 
Becket's murder, and was now oii his way to Normandy to 
meet the legates. The morning before his departure. Queen 
Eleanor saw him walking in the pleasance, and hastened 
to join him. As she approached she observed a thread of 
silk, attached to his spur and apparently extending through 
the walks of the shrubbery. Carefully breaking the thread 
she devoted herself by the most sedulous attention to her 
husband, till he set out for France, when she hastened back 
to the garden, and taking up the silk followed it through 



168 HEROINES OF THE CRUSAEES. 

numerous turnings and windings till she came to a little 
open space near the garden wall, perfectly enclosed by 
shrubbery. The bull from which the thread was unwound 
lay upon the grass. There the path seemed to terminate ; 
but her suspicions were now so far confirmed that she de- 
termined not to give up the pursuit. A broken bough, on 
which the leaves were not yet withered, riveted her atten- 
tion, and pulling aside the branch she discovered a con- 
cealed door. With great difficulty she opened or rather 
lifted it, and descended by stairs winding beneath the cas- 
tle wall. Ascending on the opposite side by a path so 
narrow that she could feel the earth and rocks on either 
hand, she emerged into what had formerly been the cave 
of a leopard, fitted up in the most fanciful manner with 
pebbles, mosses, and leaves. She made the entire circnit 
of the cave ere she discovered a place of egress : but at 
length pushing away a verdant screen, she advanced upon 
an open pathway which wound, now under the thick 
branches of trees, now through the dilapidated barriers 
that had prevented the forest denizens from making war 
upon each other, now among ruined lodges which the keep- 
ers of the wild beasts had formerly inhabited ; but wher- 
ever she wandered she noted that some careful hand had 
planted tree, and shrub, and flower in such a manner as to 
conceal the face of decay and furnish in the midst of these 
sylvan shades a most delightful retreat. At last she found 
herself inextricably involved in a labyrinth whose apart- 
ments, divided by leafy partitions, seemed so numerous 
and so like each other as to render it impossible for her to 
form any idea of the distance she had come, or the point 
to which she must proceed. The sun was going down when 
by accident, she laid her hand upon the stile. Following 
its windings, though wnth great difficulty, she emerged into 
the path that terminated in the forest. The low howl of a 
wolf-dog quickened her steps, and she arrived at the palace 
breathless with fear and fatigue. Sleep scarcely visited 
her pillow. She revolved the matter over and over again 
in her mind. " Where could Henry find balls of silk ? 



ELEANOR. 169 

For whose pleasure and privacy was the labyrinth con- 
trived ? What hand had j)lanted the rare exotic adjacent 
to the hawthorn and the sloe ? Was this tortuous path the 
road to a mortal habitation ? And who was the fair in- 
mate ?" She could hardly wait for the dawn of the morn- 
ing, and when the morning came it only increased her 
impatience, for heavy clouds veiled the sun, and a contin- 
ued rain confined her for several days to her apartments. 

When she next set out on her voyage of discovery she 
took the necessary precaution to secure a hearty coadjutor 
in the person of Peyrol, who silently followed her with the 
faithfulness of early affection, wondering to what point their 
mysterious journey might tend. At the secret door she 
fastened a thread, and with more celerity than she had 
hoped, traced her former course to the labyrinth ; with 
much difiiculty she again found the stile, and after a diligent 
search perceived a rude stair, that winding around the base 
of a rock assumed a regular shapely form, till by a long 
arched passage it conducted to a tower screened by lofty 
trees, but commanding through the interstices of the foliage 
a view of the adjacent forest. Here all effort at conceal- 
ment was at an end. The doors opened into rooms fitted 
up with all the appliances of wealth, and Vvdth a perfection 
of taste that showed that some female divinity presided 
there. Yases of fresh-culled flowers regaled the senses 
with rich perfume. A harp lay unstrung upon the table, a 
tambour frame on which was an unfinished picture of the 
Holy Family leaned against the wall, while balls of silk 
and children's toys lay scattered around in playful disorder. 
Everything indicated that the tower had been recently oc- 
cupied, but no inmate was to be found. Retracing their 
steps into the forest they proceeded by a well-beaten path 
along the banks^of a little stream, to a pebbly basin in 
which the waters welled up with a faint murmur that spoke 
of rest and quiet. A sound of music made them pause, 
and they heard a low gentle voice followed by the lisping 
accents of a child chanting the evening hymn to the Vir- 
gin. Stepping stealthily along they saw, half shaded by a 



170 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

bower inwoven with myrtle and eglantine, a beautiful fe- 
male kneeling before a crucifix hung with votive offerings. 
Her face was exquisitely fair, and her eyes raised to the 
holy sjanbol seemed to borrow their hue from the heavens 
above. A soft bloom suffused her cheek, and her coral lips 
parted in prayer revealed her pearly teeth. The delicate 
contour of her finely rounded throat and bust were dis- 
played by her posture, and one dimpled shoulder was visi- 
ble through the wavy masses of bright hair that enveloped 
her figure, as though the light of tlie golden sunset lingered 
lovingly about her. An infant, fairer if possible than the 
mother, with eyes of the same heavenly hue, lay b}' her 
side. He had drawn one tiny slipper from liis foot, and 
delighted with his prize laughed in every feature and 
seemed crowing an accompaniment to her words. Startled 
by the sound of footsteps, the mother turned, and meeting 
the dark menacing gaze of Eleanor, snatched up the baby- 
boy, which clasped its little hands and looked up in her 
face, instinctively suiting the action of entreaty to the 
smile of confident affection. The elder boy before unnoticed 
advanced as if in doubt, whether to grieve or frown. 

The deep earnest gaze of his hazel eyes and his soft 
brown hair, clearly indicated his Norman extraction, and 
when he passed his arm half-fearfulh^, half-protectinglj^ 
around his mother's neck, and the eloquent blood mounted 
to his cheek Eleanor recognized the princely bearing of the 
Plantagenets. 

" False woman," said she, darting forward and confront- 
ing the trembling mother with flashing eyes, " thou art the 
paramour of King Henry, and these your base-born pro- 
geny." To the paleness of terror succeeded the flush of in- 
dignation not unmingled with the crimson hue of shame, as 
the fair creature raised her head and repelled the accusation. 

" Rosamond de Clifford is not King Henry's paramour. 
My lord is the Duke of Maine ; and when he returns from 
the wars will acknowledge his babes before the nobles of 
the land." 

"Aye,, the Puke of !S|aine," retorted Eleanor, in acjornful 



ELEANOR. 171 

mockery, "and of Anjoii, and of Normandy, and through 
his injured queen lord of the seven beautiful provinces of 
the south. Thy white face has won a marvellous conquest. 
The arch-dissimulator boasts many titles, but one that bars 
all thy claims. He is the hnsland of Eleanor of Aqui- 
taine !" " Becket ! where is Becket, why comes not my 
friend and counsellor?" exclaimed Rosamond in the accents 
of despair, as a conviction of the truth flashed upon her 
mind. "Dead," replied the infuriated woman, approach- 
ing nearer and speaking in a hoarse whisper. "Henry 
brooks no rival in his path, nor will Eleanor." The implied 
threat and fierce gestures warned Rosamond of her danger, 
and clasping her frightened children to her breast, she sank 
down at the feet of the queen in the utmost terror and abase- 
ment. " Heaven assoil thee of thy sin," said Eleanor, turn- 
ing to depart, " at dawn we meet again." 



CHAPTER VI. 

" Oh ! thiuk what anxious moments pass between 
The birth of plots, and their List fatal periods; 
Oh 1 'tis a dreadful interval of time, 
FiU'd up with horror, and big with death." 

The first conference of Henry with the legates proved un- 
satisfactor}^, but at the second, in the presence of the bish- 
ops, barons and people, with his hand on the gospels, he 
solemnly swore that he was innocent both in word and 
deed of the murder of Becket. Yet, as his passionate ex- 
pression had been the occasion of the prelate's death, he 
promised to maintain two hundred knights for the defence 
of the Holy Land ; to serve in person against the Infidels 
three years, either in Palestine or Sj^ain, and to restore the 
confiscated estates of Becket's friends. Pleased with the 
successful issue of this negotiation, Henry was preparing 
to return with joyful haste to England, w^hen his peace was 



172 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

disturbed bj quarrels originating in bis own family. For 
some unaccountable reason bis cbiklren seemed all armed 
against him. His son Henrj demanded immediate posses- 
sion of either England or Normandy, and on being refused 
appealed to his father-in-law Louis VIl. Before three days 
had elapsed, Richard and Geoffrey followed their brother, 
and soon after Henry learned to his dismay that Queen 
Eleanor had herself set off for the court of her former hus- 
band. Remembering the perilous vicinity in which he had 
left the queen, it at once occurred to him that she was the 
original instigator of the plot. By a skilful manoeuvre, he 
intercepted her flight, and sent her back to Winchester a 
prisoner. Immediately his undutiful sons, adding their 
mother's quarrel to their own grievances, bound themselves 
by oath to the King of France that they would never make 
peace with their father except by Louis's consent. The 
Duke of Flanders joined the league of the parricides, and 
the King of Scotland poured into the northern counties his 
strongest forces. Never was the crown of Henry in such 
danger. 

While repelling the attacks of the insurgents in Norman- 
dy, he received a visit from the Bishop of Winchester, who 
entreated him to return once more to England, as his pres- 
ence alone could save the kingdom. Henry at once set 
out. His countenance was gloomy and troubled, and his 
mind seemed deeply affected by the rebellion of his chil- 
dren, the perfidy of his barons and general combination of 
the neighboring princes, and above all, by his fearful un- 
certainty with regard to the fate of those whom he had so 
long and so carefully guarded. To ease the torment of his 
mind, he secretly determined to make a pilgrimage to the 
tomb of the recently-canonized martyr St. Thomas a Becket. 
He landed at Southampton, and without waiting for rest or 
refreshment, rode all night towards Canterbury. At the 
dawn of the morning, he descried the towers of Christ's 
Church. Dismounting from his horse, he exchanged the 
garb of the king for that of a penitent, and walked bare- 
foot towards the city, so cruelly cutting his feet w'ith the 



ELKANOR. 173 

Stones that every step was marked with blood. He entered 
the cathedral, descended to the crypt, knelt before the holy 
relics of his former friend, confessed his sins ; and then re- 
sorting to the chapter-house, bared his shoulders, and sub- 
missively and gratefully received three stripes from the 
knotted cords which each priest, to the number of eighty, 
applied for his spiritual benefit. Bleeding and faint, he 
again returned to the crypt, and passed the night in weary 
vigils upon the cold stone floor. The following morning he 
attended mass, and then mounted his horse and rode to 
London, where the fasting, fatigue and anxiety he had un- 
dergone threw him into a fever. Scarcely had he recover- 
ed, when he learned that his enemies had abandoned the 
idea of invading England and were concentrating their 
efforts upon his continental dominions, and that an army 
more numerous than any which Europe had seen since the 
expedition of the crusades, was encamped under the walls 
of Rouen. These circumstances made it necessary for him 
to embark again for France. 

In two successive campaigns he foiled the attempts of 
his rebel sons and their foreign allies, and finally brought 
them to demand a general pacification. The three princes 
engaged to pay due obedience to their fathei*, the King of 
the Scots agreed to hold his crown as a fief of England, and 
this made it necessary for all parties to proceed to York. 

Peace being again restored, after a great variety of de- 
tentions and delays, Henry at last found himself at liberty 
to obey the promptings of his heart, and visit Woodstock. 
He endured with such patience as he could the enthusiastic 
greetings of the household, and at the imminent jeopardy 
of his secret, took his way through the pleasance. He was 
first alarmed by finding the concealed door in the wall 
wide open, and every step of his advance added to his ap- 
prehensions. There were marks of a bloody struggle at 
the entrance to the tower, and everything within indicated 
that the occupants had been disturbed in the midst of their 
daily avocations. The rocking-horse of Prince William 
stood with the rein across his neck, as if the youthful rider 



174 HEKOINKS OF THE CUUSADES, 

had just dismounted, the pillow of the little Geoffrey still 
retained the impression of his cherub head ; the thimble 
and scissors of Rosamond lay upon the table, but the em- 
broidery was covered thick with dust, and rust had cor- 
roded the strings of the harp. 

The scene by the Hermit's "Well was yet more desolate. 
Withered herbage and leaves had stopped the welling foun- 
tain, and entirely choked the current of the stream. Ros- 
amond's bower, once invested with every attraction, now 
neglected and deserted struck a chill upon his soul. Rank 
weeds had overrun the verdant seats, the eglantine strug- 
gled in vain with the ivy, whose long and pendulous 
branches waved and flapped in the night-breeze like the 
mourning hatchments above a tomb. A bevy of swallows 
took wing at his entrance, the timid rabbit fled at his in- 
trusive step, and a green lizard glided from beneath the 
hand with wliich he supported his agitated frame against 
one of the columns. Rosamond was gone. 

But b}^ what means had she been conveyed from the re- 
treat where she had so long dwelt content with his love, and 
happy in the caresses of her children ? "Was she a wan- 
derer and an outcast, with a bleeding heart and a blighted 
name ? Had she made her couch in the cold, dark grave ? 
Had her indignant father returned from the Holy Land, 
and immured her in the dungeons of Clifford castle to hide 
her shame ? Or had some other hand dared to blot out the 
life so dear to him ? 

The thought was madness. He ran, he flew to the pal- 
ace. The old porter was summoned and closely questioned. 
He remembered the time of the queen's last visit, her anx- 
iety to penetrate the wood and search the castle. The 
night before her departure three of her French servants 
suddenly disai)peared, but as several horses were missing 
at the same time, and the queen had been employed in 
writing letters, it was supposed that they were couriers. 
There were lights seen, and cries heard in the wood. One 
of the grooms affirmed that the ghost of the youth who 
some years before was spirited away, appeared in the stable, 



KLEANUR. 175 

and a boj belonging tu a neighboring peasant had never 
since been heard of. Thongh Henry traced this story 
through all the interpolations and additions that ignorance 
and credulity could give it, neither his utmost inquiries nor 
his subsequent researches could elicit any further fact. 
Satisfied that nothing could be learned at Woodstock, the 
king hurried to Winchester. The passionate queen, amidst 
upbraidings and revilings, acknowledged that she had dis- 
covered the retreat of his mistress, and that, stung by 
jealousy, she had threatened to take her life by tlie poniard 
or poison ; that to prevent the escape of her fair rival, she 
had stationed two of her Gascon servants, a guard at the 
tower-stair. But she declared that when she returned on 
the following morning to execute her fell purpose, she found 
the grass dripping with gore, and not far distant the deail 
bodies of her servants, and the corpse of another whom she 
had known in her early days as Sir Thomas, guarded by a 
wolf-dog just expiring from a sword-wound ; and that, as- 
sisted by Peyrol, she had dragged the bodies into the 
thicket, and then vainly endeavored to trace the fugitives. 
Notwithstanding all the threats that Henry employed to 
extort further confession, she persisted in affirming her ig- 
norance of the fate of Rosamond. 

Little crediting her asseverations, he increased the rigor 
of her confinement, and installed Alice, the affianced of 
Richard, with almost regal honors, in the state apartmeJits. 
This sudden partiality of his father roused the jealousy of 
Richard, and he demanded the hand of his bride in terms 
not the most respectful nor conciliatory. Henry felt that 
the bond between his son and France was sufficiently strong, 
and ingeniously delayed the nuptials. 

Then ensued another rebellion led by young Henry ; but 
before the day fixed for battle arrived, anxiety and fatigue 
threw the prince into a fever, from which he never recov- 
ered. On his death-bed his soul became agitated with fear 
and remorse. He sent messengers to his father to implore 
forgiveness for his un filial conduct, and ordered the priests 
to lay him on a bed of ashes, where having received the 



176 HEROINES OF THE CKUSADES. 

sacraments, he exj^ired. The king was about the same pe- 
riod called upon to part, in a more hopeful manner, with 
his second daughter, Eleanor, who had been for some time 
betrothed to Alphonso, King of Castile. Henry's afiection 
for his children in their early years, was of the most tender 
character ; and Eleanor's fondness for him for some time 
subsequent to their marriage, partook of the passionate 
devotion of the south, but when her fickle attachment was 
assailed by the demon of jealousy, her love was changed 
to hate : and as Henry justly imagined, the rebellion of his 
sons was the consequence of her instructions. 

His domestic afflictions aggravated the melancholy occa- 
sioned by the mysterious disappearance of Rosamond, and 
he lamented in bitterness of spirit that the tempting lure of 
wealth and dominion offered in the alliance of Eleanor, had 
bribed him from his boyish purpose of placing Rosamond 
on the throne of England. He cursed the ambition that 
had nurtured foes in his own household, and deplored the 
selfish passion that had remorselessly poured sorrow into 
the young life that ventured all upon liis truth. The calm 
heroism of his early character was changed into petulant 
arrogance. He frequently spent whole days hunting in the 
forests, or riding alone in different parts of his dominions. 
In the simple garb of a country knight, he had often sought 
admittance to the ancient seat of the Cliffords, and the 
nunnery of Godstowe, but without success. The sight of a 
crowd of people collected round a returned pilgrim at 
length suggested another mode of disguise. Procuring a 
palmer's weeds, he repaired to Herefordshire, and craved 
an alms from the servants, at Clifford castle. He was at 
once admitted, and the curious household gathered round 
the holy man to listen to his story. 

It had been, he said, a long time since he had left the 
Holy Wars. He had been a wanderer in many lands, but 
his heart had led him to his native country, to seek for 
chose whom he had known in his youth. He would fain 
see, once more, the good Lord de Clifford, for he had saved 
his life in Palestine. The servants replied that the Lord 



ELEANOR. 177 

de CliiFord bad not been beard from for many a year. 
" Might he gain a moment's audience of the Ladj de 
Clifford?" The lady died soon after her lord's departure. 
" Could he speak with Adam Henrid ?" The good senes- 
chal had been long dead. 

His voice faltered as he inquired for Rosamond. ' An 
ominous silence was the only reply. " And Jaqueline, the 
lady's maid ?" She, too, lay in her grave. He ran bis eye 
along the group, and said with a look of embarrassment and 
pain, "There is none to welcome mj return. It was not so 
in the good days when my lord and my lady rode forth to 
the chase with their gallant train, and the sound of feast- 
ing and wassail resounded in the castle hall. Remains 
there none of Lord Walter's kin to offer welcome or 
charity in our lady's name?" A proud boy stepped forth 
among the listeners, and with princely courtesy extended 
his hand. 

" Come with me, holy father," said he, " it shall never 
be said, that a pilgrim went hungry and weary from the 
castle of the Cliffords." With a step that accorded better 
with his impatience than his assumed character, Henry 
followed the lad to an inner apartment, where a repast was 
soon spread before him. As soon as the servants had with- 
drawn he entered into conversation with his young host. 
" Thou art a De Clifford," said he, as though it were an 
undoubted fact. " What is thy name ?" "William," re- 
plied the youth ; " and this clerk," pointing to a fair boy 
who sat reading in the deep embrasure of the window, " is 
my brother Geoffrey." " And how long have you dwelt at 
the castle ?" " Some winters," replied the boy, after a mo- 
ment's hesitation. "Who brought you hither?" "We 
came with Jaqueline, from our cottage in the wood." 
" And where is your mother ?" said Henry, making a despe- 
rate effort to speak with calmness. " She went with Jaque- 
line so long ago, that Geoffrey does not remember her." 
" And your father?" said Henry, with increased agitation. 
" Jaqueline said our father was a king, and we must never 
leave the castle till he came for us." "And why did Ja- 

12 



178 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

queline leave the castle?" " She went to the convent for 
confession ; and there was where she died : but it is a long 
way." The heart of the father yearned towards his sons, 
as he gazed from one to the other, and compared their fea- 
tures with the miniature that their infant charms had set in 
his memory, but with the sweet certainty that he had at 
last found the objects of his search, was born the thrilling 
hope that their mother yet lived. Then a struggling 
crowd of thoughts, emotions, and purposes rushed through 
his mind, and foremost among them all was the idea that 
Eleanor might be divorced, Rosamond's wrongs repaired, 
the diadem of England placed upon her brow, and his de- 
clining years solaced by the affection of these duteous sons 
who should take the places and titles of the rebel princes. 
Yet even in the midst of the tumult of his feelings his wonted 
self-control taught him not to risk the safety of his new- 
found joys by any prematnre discovery. Rising from the 
table with an air of solemnity, he pronounced his parting 
blessing in a tone of the deepest fervor, and hurriedly took 
his leave. Retaining his disguise, but occupied with 
thoughts that ill-became a palmer's brain, he bent his steps 
towards the nunnery of Godstowe. Near the close of the 
second day he entered the confines of Oxfordshire, and 
found himself, little to his satisfaction, in the vicinity of a 
country fair, with its attendant junketing, masquerade, 
and feats of jugglery and legerdemain. To avoid the 
crowd, he determined to seek lodging in a booth that stood 
a little apart from the main encampment. The weary 
monarch had stretched himself to rest, when the sound of 
uproarious mirth disturbed his slumbers, and a Welsh bal- 
lad-singer, whom he remembered to have seen in the ser- 
vice of Giraldus Cambrensis, the tutor of John, commenced 
in a voice of considerable power and pathos, the following 
song : — 

When as King Henry ruled this land, 
The second of that name, 
Besides the queen, he dearly loved 
A fair and comely dame; 



ELEANOR. 179 



Most peerless was her beauty found, 
Her favor and her face ; 
A sweeter creature in this world 
Did never prince embrace. 

Her crisped locks like threads of gold 

Appeared to each man's sight, 

Her sparkliug eyes like orient pearls 

Did cast a heavenly light ; 

The blood within her crystal cheeks 

Did such a color drive, 

As if the lily and the rose 

For mastership did strive. 

Yea, Rosamond, fair Rosamond, 

Her name was called so, 

To whom dame Eleanor our queen 

Was known a deadly foe. 

The king therefore for her defence 

Against the furious queen. 

At Woodstock builded such a buwer, 

The like was never seen. 

Most curiously that bower was built 

Of stone and timber strong, 

One hundred and fifty doors 

Did to this bower belong ; 

And they so cunningly contrived 

With turuings round about. 

That none but with a clew of thread 

Could enter in or out. 

And for his love and lady's sake 
That was so fair and bright, 
The keeping of this bower he gave 
Unto a valiant knight. 
But Fortune, that doth often frown 
Where she before did smile, 
The king's delight, the lady's joy 
Full soon she did beguile. 

For why, the king's ungracious eon 
Whom he did high advance. 
Against his father raised wars 
Within the realm of France. 
But yet befiire our comely king 
The English land forsook, 
Of Rosamond, his lady fair, 
His farewell thus he took. 



1S0 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES, 

" My Rosamond, my only Rose 
That pleasest best mine eye, 
The fairest flower in all the world 
To feed my fantasy. 
The flower of my affected heai't, 
Whose sweetness doth excel, 
My royal Rose, a thousand times 
I bid thee now farewell. 

" For I must leave my fairest flower, 

My sweetest Rose a space, 

And cross the seas to famous France, 

Proud rebels to abase. 

But yet my Rose, be sure thou shalt 

My coming shortly see. 

And in my heart, when hence I am, 

I'll beai* my Rose with me." 

When Rosamond, that lady bright, 

Did hear the king say so, 

The sorrow of her grieved heart 

Her outward looks did show, 

And from her clear and crystal eyes 

Tears gushed out apace. 

Which like the silver pearled dew 

Ran down her comely face. 

Her lips erst like the coral red, 
Did wax both wan and pale, 
And for the sorrow she conceived 
Her vital spirits did fail. 
And falling down all in a swoon. 
Before King Henry's face. 
Full oft he in his princely arms 
Her body did embrace. 

And twenty times with watery eyes. 

He kissed her tender cheek, 

Until he had revived again 

Her senses mild and meek. 

" Why grieves my Rose, my sweetest Rose J" 

The king did often say. 

" Because," quoth she, " to bloody wars 

My lord must pass away. 

" But since your grace on foreign coasts, 
Among your foes unkind, 
Must go to hazard life and limb, 
Why should I stay behind i 



ELE.iNOK. 181 



Nay, rather let me, like a page, 
Your sword aud target bear, 
That oa my breast the blows may light. 
That should offend you there. 

" Or let me in your royal tent 

Prepare your bed at night, 

And with sweet baths refresh your grace 

At your return from fight. 

So I your presence may enjoy, 

No toil I will refuse ; 

But wanting you my life is death, 

Nay, death I'd rather choose." 

" Content thyself, my dearest love ; 

Thy rest at home shall be. 

In England's sweet and pleasant soil ; 

For travel suits not thee. 

Fair ladies brook not bloody wars ; 

Sweet peace, their pleasures breed 

The nourisher of heart's content. 

Which Fancy first did feed. 

" My Rose shall rest in Woodstock's bower, 

With music's sweet delight, 

Whilst I among the piercing pikes 

Against my foes do fight. 

My Rose in robes of pearl and gold, 

With diamonds richly dight, 

Shall dance the galliards of my love, 

WhQe I my foes do smite. 

" And you. Sir Thomas, whom I trust 

To be my love's defence, 

Be careful of my gallant Rose 

When I am parted hence." 

Aud therewithal he fetched a sigh, 

As though his heart would break, 

And Rosamond, for very grief. 

Not one plain word could speak. 

And at their parting well they might. 

In heart be grieved sore. 

After that day fair Rosamond 

The king did see no more. 

For when his grace had passed the seas, 

And into France was gone, 

Queen Eleanor with envious heart 

To Woodstock came anon. 



182 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

And forth Blie calls this trusty knight, 
Who kept this curious bower, 
Who with his clew of twined thread. 
Came from this famous flower ; 
And when that they had wounded him. 
The queen this thread did get, 
And went where Lady Rosamond 
Was like an angel set. 

But when the queen with steadfast eye, 

Beheld her heavenly face, 

She was amazed in her mind 

At her exceeding grace. 

" Cast off from thee these robes," she said, 

" That rich and costly be ; 

And drink thou up this deadly draught, 

Which I have brought to thee." 

Then presently upon her knee. 

Sweet Rosamond did fall; 

And pardon of the queen she craved, 

For her offences all. 

" Take pity on my youthful years," 

Fair Rosamond did cry, 

" And let me not with poison strong, 

Enfoi'ced be to die. 

" I will renounce my sinful life. 
And in some cloister bide, 
Or else be banished if you please. 
To range the world so wide. 
And for the fault which I have done, 
Though I was forced thereto. 
Preserve my life and punish me, 
As you think good to do." 

And with these words, her lily hands 

She wrung full often there, 

And down along her lovely face. 

Proceeded many a tear. 

But nothing could this furious queen 

Therewith appeased be ; 

The cup of deadly poison strong. 

As she sate on her knee. 

She gave this comely dame to drink, 
Who took it in her hand, 
And from her bended knee arose, 
And on her feet did stand, 



ELEANOR. 183 

And casting up her eyes to heaven, 
She did for mercy call, 
And drinking up the poison strong. 
Her life she lost -withal. 

" Help ! ho ! Have done with your foolish madrigal," 
cried a stout yeoman, who had watched the terrible agony 
depicted upon the face of the king, during this rehearsal ; 
" the holy palmer is well nigh suffocated with your folly." 

" Give him a taste of one of the psalms of David," hic- 
coughed a little man from the opposite side of the booth, 
" the pious aye thrive upon the good book," and he laughed 
at his own profanity. 

" A horn of good English beer will do him better," roared 
a Yorkshire man, pouring out a bumper of ale. " Build 
up the body, mon, and the soul will do weel eneugh." 
" Gramercy !" cried the minstrel, going nearer and gazing 
upon his distorted features. " Some evil demon possesses 
him. 'Tis a terror to look upon his bloodshot eyes." " An 
if the evil demon is in him 'twere best to cast him out," 
interposed the owner of the booth. Suiting the action to 
the word, he dragged the senseless king from the couch of 
fern leaves, to a more refreshing bed upon the dewy grass. 
Tiie cool air at length revived the miserable monarch, and 
the very torture of returning recollection gave him strength 
to rise and pursue his course. On he sped through the night, 
insensible to fatigue and regardless of rest. As he struck 
into the bridle path where his eyes were dazzled by the bright 
vision that first led his feet to Godstowe, the faint sound 
of the convent bell fell upon his ear. He thought it the 
ringing of the matin chime ; but approaching nearer, the 
solemn toll smote heavily upon his heart, for he recognized 
in it the knell of a parting soul. He quickened his steps, 
and by reason of his friar's gown, gained ready admittance 
to the convent. The messenger that had been despatched 
for a priest to shrive the dying nun had not yet returned, 
and Henry's services were put in requisition to perform the 
holy office. AVithout giving him time for question or ex- 
planation, the frightened sisters liurried him through the 



184 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

long passages of the dormitory and introduced him into a 
cell, where stretched upon a pallet of straw, lay the pale 
and wasted form of Rosamond. The faint beams of morn- 
ing struggling through the open casement, mingled with 
the sickening glare of waxen tapers, which according to 
the rites of the church, were placed at the head and foot 
of the bed. The couch was surrounded with objects intend- 
ed to familiarize the mind with the idea of death, to fit 
the soul for its final departure. A coflBn half filled with 
ashes stood near, whereon was placed the crown and robe, 
in which she had professed herself the bride of Christ, 
now ready to adorn her for her burial, and the necessary 
articles for administering extreme unction, were arranged 
upon a small table, above which hung a cross bearing an 
image of the dying Saviour. With a despairing glance at 
these terrible preparations, Henry approached the bed, 
and gazed upon the unconscious sufi'erer. Unable to com- 
mand his voice, he waved his hand and the attendant dev- 
otees retired from the room ; the lady abbess whispering 
as she passed, " I fear our sister is too far gone to con- 
fess." Hastily throwing back his cowl, he bent over the 
sleeper, raised her head, clasped in his own the atten- 
uated hand that had so often returned his fond pressure, 
and in the accents of love and despair, whispered her name. 
The dying one languidly lifted the snowy lids that veiled 
her lustrous eyes, and looked upon him, but in the vacant 
gaze was no recognition. " My Rosamond !" cried Henry, 
passionately pressing a kiss upon her ashy lips. A thrill 
ran through her frame, her slight fingers quivered in his 
clasp, and the world of recollections that rushed back upon 
her brain, beamed from her dilating eyes. Her palsied 
tongue assayed to speak, but Henry caught only the low 
sound, " My children !" " My children" — reiterated the 
monarch — ^he said no more — her breast heaved — her lips 
trembled with the last faint sigh, and a smile of inefiable 
joy rested on the features of the dead. 



ELEANOR. 185 



CHAPTER VII. 

Ingratitude 1 tliou marble-hearted fiend, 

More to be dreaded when thou showest thee in a child, 

Than the sea-monster. 

The protracted imprisonment of Queen Eleanor infuri- 
ated her Provengal subjects. Tlie southern court, deprived 
of its most brilliant gem, no longer attracted the gifted and 
the gay from all parts of Europe. The troubadours in effect 
hung their harps on the willows, and the faithful Peyrol, 
banished from the presence of his beloved mistress, at- 
tempted to console the weary hours of her captivity, by 
tender Plaintes^ in which with touching simplicity he be- 
wailed her misfortunes. " Daughter of Aquitaine," wrote 
he, " fair fruitful vine, thou hast been torn from thy coun- 
try, and led into a strange land. Thy harp is changed 
into the voice of mourning, and thy songs into sounds of 
lamentation. Brought up in delicacy and abundance, thou 
enjoyedst a royal liberty, living in the bosom of wealth, 
delighting thyself with the sports of thy women, with their 
songs, to the sound of the lute and tabor ; and now thou 
mournest, thou weepest, thou consumest thyself with sor- 
row. Return, poor prisoner — return to thy cities, if thou 
canst ; and if thou canst not, weep and say, ' Alas ! how 
long is my exile.' Weep, weep, and say, ' My tears are 
my bread both day and night.' Where are thy guards, 
thy royal escort? — where thy maiden train, thy counsellors 
of state ? Thou criest, but no one hears thee ! for the king 
of the north keeps thee shut uj) like a town that is be- 
sieged. Cry then — cease not to cry. Raise thy voice like 
a trumpet, that thy sons may hear it ; for the day is ap- 
proaching when thy sons shall deliver thee, and then shalt 
thou see again thy native land." 

But the warlike chiefs of Guienne did not confine them- 
selves to expressions of tenderness. Richard and Geoffrey, 



186 HEHOINES OF THE CRUSADES, 

though often hostile to each otlier, wei"e always ready to 
lead the barons of the south to battle, and for two years 
the Angevin subjects of Henry and the Aquitaine subjects 
of Eleanor, incited bj' her sons, gave battle in the cause of 
the captive queen, and from Kochelle to Bayonne the 
whole south of France was in a state of insurrection. The 
melancholy death of Geoffrey added to the afflictions of 
his already wi-etched mother. In a grand tournament at 
Paris he was thrown from his horse and trodden to death 
beneath the feet of the coursers. He was distinguished for 
his manly beauty and martial grace, and Eleanor had re- 
garded him with an affection as intense as was the cause- 
less hatred she bore to his wife Constance. His infant son 
Arthur, for whom Eleanor's namesake had been set aside, 
inherited the dower of his mother both in possessions and. 
enmity. Not long after the death of her favorite son 
Eleanor was called upon to part with her youngest daugh- 
ter Joanna, who became the bride of William II. King of 
Sicily. Thus deprived of all affection, Eleanor dragged 
on a monotonous existence during Henry's protracted search 
for Rosamond. 

The innocence of his queen being fully proved, the soft- 
ened monarch began to regard her with more complacency : 
but the vindictive spirit of Eleanor, incensed by the indig- 
nities she had suitered, and enraged by being the victim 
of unjust suspicions, could not so easily repass the barriers 
that had been interposed between their affections, and 
though she accompanied her lord to Bordeaux, she set her- 
self to widen the breach between him and Richard, and he 
soon found it necessary to remand her again to the seclu- 
sion of Winchester palace. 

When Henry received absolution from the pope for the 
murder of Becket, he solemnly swore to visit the Holy 
Land in person, and the day had been fixed for his depart- 
ure with Louis King of France, The death of that mon- 
arch prevented the expedition, and Henry had delayed it 
from time to time, though the patriarch of Jerusalem and 
the grand-master of the knights Hospitallers, had made 



ELEANOR. 187 

the long and difficult journey to England, and in name 
of Queen Sibylla, had delivered to hira as the successor of 
Fulk of Anjou, the royal banner and the keys of the Holy 
City and Sepulchre, l^ow impressed with a sense of the 
vanity of human hopes, and the fading grandeur of earthly 
distinction, he determined if possible, to divert his mind 
from the endless train of sad recollections, by plunging 
into the excitement of novel scenes and rekindling his 
wasting energies at the fane of Religion. The eyes of all 
the European nations were at this time directed, with pecu- 
liar anxiety to the distresses of the Christians in Palestine. 
At the death of Baldwin III. the sceptre passed to the 
hands of his brother Almeric, who wasted his subjects and 
treasure in a fruitless war with the Vizier of Egypt. The 
crown from Almeric descended to Baldwin IV., his son by 
Agnes de Courteney, heiress to the lost principality of Edessa. 
Baldwin IV. was a leper ; and finding that disease incapaci- 
tated him fo)' performing the royal functions, he committed 
the government to his brother-in-law Guy de Lusignan, a 
French knight whom Henry had banished for murder. At 
the death of Baldwin his sister Sibylla and her husband Guy 
became King and Queen of Jerusalem, but the Count of 
Tripoli refused to do them homage. At last he consented 
to proffer his allegiance to the queen, on condition tliat she 
should be divorced from Lusignan and choose a partner 
who should be able to protect the kingdom. Sibylla was a 
woman of great beauty, majestic person and commanding 
talents. She consented to the proposal of the Count of 
Tripoli, only requiring in return the oath of the barons that 
they would accept for sovereign whomsoever she should 
choose. The terms were settled, the divorce obtained, and 
the ceremony of her coronation took place. As soon as she 
was crowned, turning proudly to the rebel lords, she placed 
the diadem on the head of Lusignan, saluted him as her 
husband, bent the knee to him as king, and with a voice 
of authority, cried aloud, " Those whom God has joined 
togetlier let not man put asunder." The simple truth and 
affection of the queen, and the grandeur of the spectacle 



188 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

awed the assembly ; and the astonished barons submitted 
without a murmur. 

The famous Saladin, about the same time, began his career 
of conquest in the East. Tiberius, Acre, Jaffa, Cesarea and 
Bei*ytus were the trophies of his victories. One hundred 
thousand people flying from the sword of the Turks crowd- 
ed into Jerusalem, and the feeble garrison was not able to 
defend them. Saladin, unwilling to stain -with human 
blood the place which even the Moslems held in reverence, 
oflered the inhabitants peace on condition of the surrender 
of the city, and money and lands in Syria ; but the Chris- 
tians declared that they would not resign to the Infidels 
the place where the Saviour had suflered and died. Indig- 
nant at the rejection of his offer, Saladin swore that he 
would enter the city sword in hand and retaliate upon the 
Franks the carnage they had made in the days of Godfrey 
de Boulogne. For fourteen days the battle raged around 
the walls with almost unexampled fury. The Moslem fana- 
tic fearlessly exposed his life, expecting that death would 
give him at once to drink of the waters of Paradise, — the 
Christian, hoping to exchange an earthly for a heavenly 
Jerusalem, poured out his blood in protecting the Holy 
Sepulchre. AYhen it was found that the wall near the gate 
of St. Stephen was undermined, all farther efforts at de- 
fence were abandoned ; the clergy prayed for a miraculous 
interposition of heaven, and the soldiers threw down their 
arms and crowded into the churches. Saladin again ofler- 
ed favorable conditions of peace. The miserable inhabi- 
tants spent four days in visiting the sacred places, weeping 
over and embracing the Holy Sepulchre, and then, sadly 
quitting the hallowed precincts, passed through the ene- 
my's camp, and took their disconsolate way towards Tyre, 
the last stronghold of the Latins in Palestine. 

Thus after the lapse of nearly a century, the Holy City 
that had cost Europe so much blood and treasure, once 
more became the property of the Infidel. The great cross 
was taken down from the church of the Sepulchre and 
dragged through the mire of the street, the bells of the 



ELEANOR. 189 

churches were melted, while the floors and walls of the 
mosque of Omar, purified with Damascene rose-water, were 
again consecrated to the worshij) of the false prophet. The 
melancholy tidings of this event occasioned the greatest 
sensation throughout the Christian world. The aged pon- 
tiiF died of a broken heart. The husband of Joanna put 
on sackcloth and vowed to take the cross. Henry, Philip, 
the new King of France, the Earls of Flanders and Cham- 
pagne, and a great number of knights and barons resolved 
to combine their forces for the redemption of the Holy 
City. 

Immediately upon the death of Rosamond, Henry had 
made all the reparation in his power to her injured name, 
by acknowledging her children and placing them at Wood- 
stock to be educated with his son John. The boj'S grew up 
to manhood, and developed a perfection of. personal ele- 
gance and strength of character more befitting the sons of 
a king than an}^ of the children of Eleanor. He promoted 
them to offices of honor and trust, and made Geoffrey chan- 
cellor of the realm. 

Everything was now ready for the king's departure. In 
a general council held at Northampton it was enacted that 
every man who did not join the crusade should ipay towards 
the expense of the expedition one tenth of all his goods ; 
and the Jews were fined for the same purpose one fourth 
of their personal property. Henry wrote letters to the em- 
perors of Germany, Hungary and Constantinople, for liber- 
ty to pass through their dominions, and receiving favorable 
answers, passed over to France to complete the arrange- 
ment with Philip, when the whole plan was defeated by 
that monarch's demanding that his sister Alice should be 
given to Richard, and that the English should swear fealty 
to the prince as heir-apparent to the throne. Henry refused ; 
and his son Richard, in the public conference, kneeling at 
the feet of the French monarch, presented him his sword, 
saying, " To you, sir, I commit the protection of my rights, 
and to you I now do homage for my father's dominions in 
France." 



190 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

The king, amazed at this new act of rebellion, retired 
precipitately from the council, and prepared with some of 
his former alacrity, to meet the combination against him. 
But Fortune, that had hitherto smiled upon him, seemed now 
to forsake him. He was defeated in every battle, driven 
from city to city, his health became impaired, his spirits 
failed, and. at last he submitted to all the demands of his 
enemies, agreeing to pay twenty thousand marks to Philip, 
to permit his vassals to do homage to Richard, and above 
all, to give up Alice, the cause of so much domestic misery. 

He stipulated only for a list of the disaffected barons 
who had joined the French king. The first name that 
caught his ejQ was that of John, the idolized child of his 
old age. He read no further, but throwing down the paper, 
fell into one of those violent paroxysms of rage to which of 
late years he«had been so fearfully subject. He cursed the 
day of his birth, called down maledictions upon his un- 
natural children and their treacherous mothei", flung him- 
self upon the couch, tore the covers with his teeth, and 
clutched the hair from his head, and swooned away in a 
transport of anger and grief. A raging fever succeeded ; 
but in his lucid moments he superintended an artist, who, 
at his command, painted upon canvass, the device of a 
young eaglet picking out the eyes of an eagle. Day after 
day the monarch lingered and suffered between paroxysms 
of pain and grief, and intervals of lassitude and insensi- 
bility ; and when others forsook his bedside in weariness 
or alarm, Geoffrey, unconscious of drowsiness or fatigue, 
stood a patient watcher by his dying father. The feeble 
monarch recognized in the voice of this son the tones which 
his ear had loved in youth, and obeyed its slightest bid- 
ding ; and the only alleviation of his agony was found in 
gazing upon the face that revived the image of his lost 
Rosamond. Taking the signet-ring from his finger, he 
placed it upon the hand of Geoffrey ; " Thou art my true 
and loyal son," said he. " Tiie blessing of heaven rest 
upon thee for thy filial service to thy guilty sire. Com- 
mend me to thv brother William and his beautir.i! bride. 



ELEANOR. 191 

As iVi,- t!i^ olbers, give tlieui jon parable," pointing to the 
picture of the eagle, "with my everlasting curse." He 
leaned his head u]>on the breast of his son, and supported 
in his arms, expired. 

Eleanor survived her unhappy consort more than twenty 
years, and in that time made some amends for the follies 
and vices of her early life. Tlie first step of her son 
Richard on his accession to the throne, was to release his 
mother from her confinement, and make her regent of the 
kingdom. She employed her freedom and her power in 
acts of mercy and beneficence, making a progress through 
the kingdom, and setting at liberty all persons confined 
for breach of the forest-laws, and other trivial ofiences, and 
recalling the outlawed to their homes and families. During 
the absence of Richard in the Holy Land, she administered 
the government with prudence and discretion, and after the 
accession of John, resumed the sceptre of her own do- 
minions, slowly and painfully gathering, in the crimes and 
miseries of her children, the fruit of the evil counsels she 
had given them in their childhood. At the age of eighty 
she retired into the convent of Fontevraud, and three years 
after died of sorrow, when the peers of France branded her 
son John as the murderer of Arthur. 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 



13 



1 




Cll 

What tliii, 



tbe 
from If 



attempi 

>y oi the ioiig di- 
■cment. "Art vc ... 
sound of thy lute, peevish c 



laii' 

task Wuilt ii 



< Tico upon a 
Bions to mortals 
they Bat recounting to e; 
^ ^ ^^ they fell i 
i'''vh''SC v.v.v i 
leigu uver lue Kite 01 men, the characteristics of the world, 
and the misfortunes and calamities which happen unto all, 
both the righteous and the wicked . And one said to ^mother, 



! 



CHAPTER I. 

" What thing so good which not some harm may bring ? 
E'en to be happy is a dangerous thing?" 

" Sing no more, for tby song wearietb me," exclaimed 
the impatient daughter of Navarre, tossing upon her couch 
with the heavy restlessness of one who courts slumber when 
nature demands exercise. The Moorish maiden, accus- 
tomed to the petulance of the beautiful Berengaria, arose 
from her cushion and laying aside her lute, murmured 
despondingly, " The proverb saith truly, ' 'Tis ill-pleasing 
him who is ill-pleased with himself.' " Abandoning further 
attempts to soothe her mistress, the attendant retired to the 
extremity of the long apartment and gazed listlessly from 
the casement. " Art vexed that my ear loved not the 
sound of thy lute, peevish child ?" inquired the youthful 
princess. " Read me a riddle, or tell me a marvellous tale 
of the Genii, such as thou hast learned in thy southern 
land." With the air of one who performs an accustomed 
task while his thoughts are far away, the girl resumed her 
seat, and recited 

A TALE OF ARABY. 

Once upon a time three Genii, returning from their mis- 
sions to mortals rested beside the well Zemzem. And as 
they sat recounting to each other the things that they had 
seen, behold they fell into conversation concerning the 
Eternal One (whose name be exalted), the destinies that 
reign over the fate of men, the characteristics of the world, 
and the misfortunes and calamities which happen unto all, 
both the righteous and the wicked. And one said to another, 



196 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

" Declare unto us now what is thine opinion, and what 
knowest thou concerning this thing. What is that, diffused 
in air, dissolved in water or concealed in earth, the subtle 
essence of which, being bestowed upon one of human 
mould, shall bring him nearest to the throne of Allah, 
(blessed be his name), and give him right to eat of the tree 
that standeth in the seventh heaven by the garden of the 
Eternal Abode ?" And the first said, " It is Beauty," and 
the second, "It is Love," and the third, " It is Happiness." 
And there arose a contention among them ; and when they 
found that neither could convince the others, they agreed 
to depart each on his way, to search the elements of all 
things for that concordial mixture with which he would 
nourish a human soul into immortality. So they went their 
way. And after the lapse of a cycle of years, they re- 
turned again and sat by the well Zemzem. And each hore 
in his hand a phial purer than crystal, sealed with the seal 
of Solomon the wise, the magnificent. Then spake the first, 
saying, " Earth hath no form of beauty from the flash of 
the diamond hidden in its deepest caves, through all the 
brilliant variety of gems and sands of gold ; no delicate 
pencilling from the first faint tinge upon the rose-bud's 
cheek to the gorgeous dyes of the flowers and fruits that 
deck the vale of Cashmere ; water hath no shade of color- 
ing from the sea-green lining of its coral caves, to the 
splendid iridescence of its pearly shells ; air hath no tint of 
the virgin stars, no ray of parted light ; vapor beareth no 
beauty in its morning clouds and rainbow hues, from which 
I have not ravished the subtlest source. "Whatever form of 
Beauty can become apparent to the sense, either as breath 
of fragrance, sweetness of sound, or grace of motion, sub- 
limated to its purest element, lieth here enclosed for the 
endowment of whomsoever we shall choose." And he held 
up the phial, and lo ! it contained a liquid having a faint 
coloring of the rose. 

Then spake the second and said, "The Almighty (blessed 
be he) hath given unto me that mysterious power by which 
I read the thoughts and purposes of men, even as the Holy 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 197 

Prophet (on whom be benedictions) was wont to read the 
' Book of Life.' 

" From the heart of the child that turneth ever to watch 
the movements of its mother, from the heart of the ser- 
vant that seeketh the favor of her mistress, from the heart 
of the sister that exults with pride in the glory of her 
brother, from the heart of the maiden that beateth bash- 
fully and tenderly at the sound of the footsteps of her lover, 
from the heart of the bridegroom that yearneth with strong 
desire towards his bride, from the heart of the father that 
expands in the fulness of joy at the sight of his first-born, 
from the heart of the mother that watcheth ever the steps 
of her child, whether he sporteth in innocence by her side 
or wandereth with vice in foreign parts ; I have gath- 
ered the sweetest and purest and truest thought of Love. 
Its impalpable essence lies hidden in this phial," and he 
placed it before them. And lo ! it seemed filled with a 
vapor which flushed in their gaze with the hue of the dawn. 

Then spake the third and said, " It is not permitted unto 
me the servant of Ifraz the Unknown, to declare unto you 
in what outward manifestations of human hope or desire, 
in what inward workings of thought and feeling, I have de- 
tected and imprisoned the elusive spirit of Happiness," 
and he held up his phial before them. And with one 
voice they exclaimed, " It is empty." And they laughed 
him to scorn. 

Then spake he in anger and said, " Truly the fool pro- 
ceedeth upon probability, and the wise man requireth 
proof." And they replied, "Go to, now, we will abide 
the proof." 

And forthwith they took their way to the land of Suris- 
tan. And as they passed by the well of Israel, Ben Izak 
(on whom be peace), they saw a maiden bearing a pitcher 
of water. And the first said, " Behold, now, immortality 
is given unto man by the Almighty the Ordainer of fate 
and destiny (whose name be exalted), but unto woman it 
is not given except as her heauty shall delight the heart of 
man." But the second said, " Except as love gives her a 



198 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

seat by the Well of Life ;" and the third, " Except as hap- 
jpiness translates her to Paradise." Then said the first, 
" Let us contend no more, but let us take this damsel and 
bestow upon her, each our sej)arate gift, and she shall be a 
sign and a testimony concerning these things." And thus 
they agreed together. 

And when the maiden retired to her couch, and the angel 
of sleep had laid his finger upon her eyelids, the first genii 
calling upon the name of God the All-perfect (blessed be 
he) broke the seal of his phial, and poured a portion of the 
liquid upon her lips. And the three genii watched her 
slumbers till the dawn ; and thus they did evening by 
evening. And they beheld her form developing in loveli- 
ness, tall and straight as the palm, but lithe and supple as 
the bending branch of the oriental willow. Her smoothly 
rounded arms gleamed like polisbed ivory beneath the 
folds of her transparent izar, and the tips of her rosy fin- 
gers were touched with the lustre of henna. Her lips had 
the hue of the coral when it is wet with the spray of the 
sea, her teeth were as strings of pearl, and the melting ful- 
ness of her cheek was sufi'used with the soft bloom of the 
peach. In her eyes was the light of the stars, and her 
eyelids were adorned with kohl. Her hair was glossy and 
black as the plumage of the raven, and when she covered 
it with her veil, her countenance beamed from it comely 
as the full moon that walketh in the darkness of the night. 
Her speech -was as the murmur of the waterfall and the 
clear tones of the nightingales of the Jordan. She was a 
wonder unto herself and unto her neighbors. Her step had 
the lightness of the gazelle and the grace of the swan ; and 
when she went forth abroad, the eye that beheld her beauty 
exclaimed, " Glory be to him who created her, perfected 
her, and completed her." But the genii beheld with sor- 
row and mortification that she became vain, and that fool- 
ish thoughts sprang up in her heart ; so that it was said of 
her, " Hath God the High, the Great, put an evil spirit in 
the perfection of beauty ?" Then said the second genii, 
" Ye shall see what the elixir of love shall do." And he 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 199 

entered into her chamber, and he broke the mystic seal 
which was the seal of Solomon Ben David (on both of 
whom be peace), and a sweet odor was diifused through 
the apartment. And the lips of the sleeper moved as with 
a pleasant smile, and there beamed upon her countenance 
the nameless charm with which the houris fill with delight 
the dwellers in the Garden of Eternity. And it came to 
pass that all who looked upon her loved her and saidj 
" There is none among the created like her in excellence 
of beauty, or in charms of disposition. Extolled be the 
perfection of the Creator of mankind." And they strove 
one with another which should possess the inestimable 
treasure. And contention and strife arose daily among 
them ; and her heart inclined unto all, and she feared to 
unite herself with one, lest grievous wars should follow. 
Therefore her soul was filled with grief, and she ceased not 
to weep by day and by night, and the tears were on her 
cheeks. Then said the third genii, " Behold sorrow is of 
earth, and the beauty and love ye have bestowed have 
gathered with them the noxious principles inwoven in 
the basis of human things. Ye shall behold the power of 
happiness." Then he took the colorless phial, and he broke 
the seal thereof, calling upon the name of Ifraz the Un- 
known, and lo, hour after hour the invisible, impalpable 
elixir seemed to permeate her being, and the light of her 
eye was tempered to a holy ray, the color blanched on her 
cheeks, and the vivacity of love gave place to the serenity 
of content. And as she walked forth the voluptuous and 
the wise said, " Behold she is too pure for earth, the Ter- 
minator of delights and Separator of companions will soon 
call for her. Extolled be the perfections of the Eternal in 
whose power it lieth to annul and to confirm." 

And when the two genii saw that Beauty and Love avail- 
ed not, they were filled with envy, and they seized the 
damsel and conve^'ed her away to the cave of enchant- 
ment. And the third genii being transported with grief 
and disappointment, broke the phial, and that which re- 
mained of the elixir of Happiness returned to its primeval 



200 HEBOINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

source, and entered again into the combinations of human 
things. But the seal being broken it became known to 
mortals that the elixir of Life existed in the elements, and 
hence it is, that those who are skilled in the mysteries of 
nature have searched its grand arcanum with the powerful 
agencies of alchemy, and tortured the genii with spells and 
incantations to wring from them the mighty secret. 

Berengaria had listened to the story with unwonted inter- 
est, and at its close started up from her couch and eagerly 
inquired, "What has been the result? Have they dis- 
covered the long-sought principle ? I have heard wondrous 
tales concerning these alchemists. Men say they deal in the 
black art ; but were there one in Navarre, I would brave the 
imputation of sorcery to question him concerning the elixir 
of beauty." " A Moorish physician dwells in the suburbs 
of Pampeluna," replied Elsiebede, measuring her sentences 
with timid hesitation, " whom I have often seen in the by- 
ways, gathering herbs, it is said he readeth the fates of 
mortals in the stars." 

" Let us go to him," exclaimed the princess, " bring me 
my pelisson and veil." 

The girl obeyed with a trembling alacrity, that to a less 
occupied observer, y^ould have betrayed that the expedition 
was the unexpected accomplishment of a long-cherished 
desire. 

" This way," said Elsiebede, drawing her mistress from 
the public street, now beginning to be thronged with labor- 
ers returning from their toil, "the alchemist brooks not 
impertinent intrusion, and we must beware that no officious 
attendant, nor curious retainer find the place of his abode." 
Silently and swiftly the two maidens threaded a narrow 
alley, leading through an unfrequented part of the town, 
turning and winding among buildings more and more re- 
mote from each other, till it terminated on a grassy heath, 
surrounding a dilapidated mansion. The sun had already 
set, and Berengaria, never too courageous, began to shudder 
at the loneliness of the place. With instinctive fear, she 
clung tremblingly to the arm of her resolute dependent, 



BERENGAKIA OF NAVARRE. 201 

whispering, " "Whither dost thou lead me ? There is here 
no sign of human life. Let us return." But the spirited 
slave bent the weak will of the mistress to her purpose ; 
and with alternate assurances of safety and incitements to 
curiosity, led the way to the rear of the ruined pile, where 
descending a stone stair, she gave three raps upon a low 
door. The grating of rusty bolts was heard, the door was 
cautiously opened, and Berengaria felt herself suddenly 
drawn within the portal. A glare of dazzling light blinded 
and bewildered her, and a stifling vapor added to her for- 
mer terror, almost stupefied her senses. 

The voice of Elsiebede somewhat reassured her, and as 
her eyes became accustomed to the light, she took a survey 
of the scene before her. The apartment seemed to have 
been originally the kitchen of the castle, one end being oc- 
cupied by a wide, large chimney, now built up except in 
the centre, where a furnace, covered with crucibles, glowed 
with the most intense heat. A white screen with a small 
dark screen before it, nearly concealed one side, of the 
apartment, while on the other side from three serpent- 
formed tubes connected through the wall with retorts, 
gleamed tongues of colored flame. Yarious gallipots, alem- 
bics, horologues, diagrams, and dusty manuscripts were 
deposited upon shelves in angles of the wall. 

The principal occupant was a man of a lean, haggard - 
figure, bowed less by age than by toil and privation. A 
few black, uncombed locks escaping from the folds of a 
turban, once white, now begrimed with smoke and dust, 
straggled over a swarthy forehead, marked with lines caused 
by intense thought, and abortive speculations. He was 
dressed in Moorish garments, the sleeves tucked above the 
elbows, revealing his emaciated arms, while his talon-like 
fingers grasped an immense triangular crystal, through 
which he was casting refractions upon the screen. His 
deep, cavernous eyes seemed to gleam with the fires of in- 
sanity, yet he spoke in a tone of deep abstraction, though 
with something like the voice of affection. "Disturb me 
not, my daughter, but stand aside till I have completed my 



202 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

experiment." The maidens remained silently by the door, 
and Berengaria had leisure to note the motions of a dwarf 
African, who sat diligently blowing the bellows of the fur- 
nace, rolling his eyes, and saluting the ladies with smiles 
which served at once to exhibit his white teeth and his 
satisfaction at the interruption. 

JN'otwitlistanding her fears at finding herself in so strange 
a situation, the curiosity of Berengaria was so excited by 
the novelty of the scene, that^he waited patiently while the 
philosopher experimented first with one light and then with 
another, till apparently becoming dissatisfied with the re- 
sult, he attempted to change the position of the tubes. 
Scarce was his purpose accomplished, when a deafening 
explosion rent the air, followed by sounds as of the falling 
of the ruin overhead. Profound darkness ensued, and the 
groans of the wounded alchemist mingled with the demo- 
niac laughter of the African, and the echo of her own 
shrieks increased the terror of the princess almost to agon}'". 
Elsiebede alone retained any share of self-possession. " A 
light, a light, Salaman," exclaimed she. Instantly a line 
of blue flame crept along the wall, and a tiny torch in the 
hand of the dwarf mysteriously ignited, revealed again his 
malevolent countenance, and threw his misshapen and 
magnified image in full relief upon the screen. An odor 
of brimstone that seemed to accompany the apparition, did 
not serve to allay Berengaria's apprehensions. Elsiebede 
for once forgot her mistress. Hastily snatching the torch 
from the negro, she lighted a lamp and raising her father 
from the stone floor, began to examine his wounds. The 
blood was oozing from a contusion upon the back' of his 
head, one side of his face was dreadfully burned, and his 
right hand lay utterly powerless. Giving hurried direc- 
tions in Moorish to the grinning Ethioj>e, Elsiebede with 
his assistance placed her father upon a couch behind the 
screen, and bathed the painful wounds with a balmy 
liquid from one of the dusty phials, accompanying her 
soothing appliances with the soft and gentle expressions of 
affection. Their lano-uasre was foreign to tjie ear of Bereu- 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 203 

garia, but she discovered by the tones of the father, and 
the tears of the daughter, that he was chiding her as the 
cause of his misfortune. At length overcome by his up- 
braiding, Elsiebede drew from her bosom a silken purse, 
and taking thence a jewel kissed it fervently, and like one 
resigning her last treasure at the call of duty, put it into 
his extended hand. The black meanwhile had prepared a 
cordial, which he intimated would soon give her father 
rest. The alchemist eagerly swallowed the draught, and 
soon sank into a heavy sleep. 

Berengaria, whose impatience had scarcely brooked the 
delay necessary for this happy consummation, hurried the 
reluctant Elsiebede away. " I knew not, Elsie," said she, 
when they were at a safe distance from the ruin, " that thy 
father dwelt in Pampeluna. I thought thou wert an 
orphan, when my father moved by thy beauty and dis- 
tress purchased thee of the rude Castilian. Tell me thine 
history." 

" My father," i-eplied Elsiebede, " was when young the 
physician of the Moorish prince, and occupied himself in 
separating the hidden virtues of nature from the impurities 
with which they are combined. When walking abroad to 
gather plants for the prosecution of his inquiries, he met 
ever}^ day a young flower girl, carrying her fragrant wares 
to the palace of the Alhambra. Attracted by her beauty, 
he purchased her flowers, and interested liimself in her his- 
tory. He learned that she belonged to a band of Saracens or 
Gyptianos, that had recently settled in Grenada. He loved 
her and she became his wife. 

" I was their only child. My youth was spent in listen- 
ing to the wondrous tales of the East, with which my mother 
delighted me, or in acquiring the elements of science with 
my father. The sudden illness and death of my mother 
destroyed all my happiness. My father betook himself 
again to the most abstruse studies, spent whole nights in 
watching the stars, practised incantations to the spirits of 
tlie air, and pondering contiiiually upon the mystery of 
death, comnience<l the search for that mighty principle 



204 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

which is said to prolong human existence. Many wonder- 
ful secrets of nature were in this process revealed to his 
sight ; but he became so sad and gloomy, and his eyes 
beamed on me with such an unwonted fire, that I feared 
lest grief should dethrone the angel of reason. To divert 
his mind, I began to lead him forth in his accustomed 
walks. One day when we had lingered rather later than 
usual beyond the walls of Grenada, a band of armed Cas- 
tilians fell upon us, and carried us away captives. The 
noble Sancho found me singing songs for my cruel master, 
and redeemed me from my fate." 

" And what became of thy father ?" inquired Berenga- 
ria. " He was enabled by some of his medicines to heal a 
long-established malady of his captor, and thus obtained 
his freedom : since which, until within a few months, he 
has wandered through Spain in search of his lost child." 
" And wherefore didst thou commit to a dying man the 
precious jewel which I saw in thy hand ?" The tears of 
Elsiebede began to fall fast, and with a choking voice she 
replied, " Question me not, I entreat thee. Oh, my mis- 
tress, concerning the ring, at another time I will tell thee 
all." Touched with the instinctive reverence that nature 
always pays to genuine sorrow, the princess forbore further 
inquiries, and the two maidens completed their walk in 
silence. 

The terror that Berengaria had suffered took away all 
desire to prosecute her inquiries with the alchemist, but 
with unusual consideration, on the following day, she dis- 
missed Elsiebede at an early hour, giving her permission to 
pass the night with her father. The poor girl returned in 
the morning overwhelmed with grief. The alchemist was 
dead. From her self-reproaches and lamentations Beren- 
garia learned, that in his scientific researches lie had con- 
sumed all his property, and melted every valuable belonging 
to his danirliter, except her mother's ring. This gem she had 
steadily refused to give him, both on account of its being a 
memento and a charm, and tlie failure of his experiment 
with its fatal results he had in his 'lying hour attributed to 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 205 

the lack of the potency of the precious gem. Stung with 
remorse, Elsiebede declared that if the ring could not save 
her father's life, it should at least procure him a grave, and 
telling her mistress that she could never again look upon 
the jewel without a shudder, begged her to accept it, and 
to assist her in burying him according to the rites of the Mo- 
hammedan religion. In catholic Navarre this was next to 
an impossibility ; but through the generosity of the prin- 
cess, and the ingenuity of Salaman, the corpse was secretly 
conveyed to the Moorish cemetery in Grenada. 



CHAPTER II. 

"0, such a day 
So fought, so followed, aud bo fairly won, 
Came not till now, to dignify the times." 

It was a gala-day in Navarre. Sancho the Strong, the 
gallant brother of Berengaria, had proclaimed a tourna- 
ment in compliment to his friend Richard Plantagenet, 
Count of Poitou. In the domestic wars which had vexed 
the south of France since the marriage of Eleanor of Aqui- 
taine with Henry of Anjou, these valiant youths had fought 
side by side, and from a friendship cemented by intimacy 
as well as similarity of tastes and pursuits, had become 
fratres jurati, or sworn brothers, according to the customs 
of the age. Both were celebrated for their knightly ac- 
complishments and their skill in judging of ProvenQal 
poetry, and each had proved the prowess of the other in 
chivalric encounter, and provoked the genius of his friend 
in the refined and elegant contests of minstrelsy and song. 
The brave Sancho had arranged the lists, giving to his 
friend the first place as knight challenger, reserving the 
second for himself, and bestowing the third upon their 
brotlier in arms, tlie young Count of Champagne. The 
gxxy pavilions were set, a splendid concourse assembled. 



206 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

and Berengaria, proclaimed Queen of Beauty and Lov^e, 
had assumed her regal state attended by all the beauties 
of Navarre, when to the infinite disappointment and morti- 
fication of the prince, Count Raimond of Toulouse arrived 
to say, that Richard, having I'eceived letters from his 
mother, had found it necessary to depart suddenly for Eng- 
land ; but that the festivities of the day might not be mar- 
red by his absence, he entreated that the bearer of the 
message. Count Raimond, might occupy his pavilion, be- 
stride his war-steed, and do his devoir in the lists. With 
a courtesy that ill- concealed his chagrin the noble Sancho 
accepted the substitute, and conducting him to the tent 
glittering with green and gold, consigned him to the care 
of the esquires ; while himself went to acquaint his sister 
with the mortifying fact that the spectacle, for which they 
had prepared with such enthusiastic anticipations, was yet 
to want the crowning grace expected from the presence of 
that flower of knighthood, Richard Plantagenet, 

To conceal from the spectators the knowledge of this un- 
toward event, their father, Sancho the Wise, who held the 
post of honor as judge of the combat, decided that Count 
Raimond of Toulouse should assume the armorial bearings 
of Richard, and personate him in the lists. These prelimi- 
naries being satisfactorily arranged, the heralds rode forth 
and proclaimed the laws of the tournament, and the games 
proceeded. The Count of Champagne and the ro^^al 
Sancho, better practised in the exercises of the lance than 
the Spanish cavaliers who opposed them, won applause 
from all beholders ; but the crowd seemed to take especial 
delight in the prowess of Count Raimond, shouting at every 
gallant thrust, and every feat of horsemanship, " A Richard, 
a Richard ! A Plantagenet !" Notwithstanding the un- 
favorable auspices under which the tournament commen- 
ced, the sports of the day were as gay and animated as the 
most sanguine could have hoped. The three challengers 
had overborne all opponents. With a heart fluttering with 
pride and pleasure, the young Blanche of Navarre had 
seen her sister confer a golden coronet upon the Count of 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 207 

Champagne, and Sancho had also received from Beren- 
garia a chaplet in honor of his knightly achievements. But 
the first in honor as in place, was the warrior who had per- 
sonated Richard. When, however, he laid aside his vizor, 
to receive the well-won laurel as leader of the victors, the 
multitude discovered that the hero whom they had greeted 
with such enthusiastic applause was Count Raimond of 
Toulouse, and new bursts of acclamations rent the air, 
while the marshals, and squires, and heralds, foi-getting 
for a moment their duties, gathered round the throne of 
Love and Beauty to interchange congratulations with the 
gratified count. 

In the general excitement no one had noticed the en- 
trance of a Tcnight adventurous^ one of those wandering 
cavaliers who, to perfect themselves in feats of arms, travelled 
from province to province, challenging the skill of all 
comers in chivalrous combat. The appearance of this 
knight-errant was such as attracted all eyes. He was 
mounted on a bay horse of spirit and mettle that hardly 
yielded to the strong rein ; his helmet was surmounted 
with a crest of the figure of a red hound, while liis erect 
form shielded in brown armor, and the firmness with which 
he maintained his seat gave him the appearance of a bronze 
statue, borne along in the procession. Disregarding the 
indications that the fortunes of the day were already de- 
cided, the stranger knight rode directly to the pavilion em- 
blazoned with the arras of Richard, and struck his spear 
with such force upon the shield, as to summon at once the 
attendants to duty. 

" Whom have we here ?" exclaimed Sancho, with a 
hearty laugh. " By our Lady, Count Raimond, this day's 
sun shall not set till the heathen hound on the crest of yon 
crusading knight hath bit the dust. Pardieu, I almost Qnyj 
thee thy good fortune to tilt against so fair a foe." The 
interest which this new-comer gave to the flagging sports 
was evinced by the eager inquiries and hurried whispers 
that went round among the spectators. A breathless silence 
ensued, as Count Raimond couclied his lance and started 



208 HEROINES OF THE CRUSALES. 

forward to meet his strange challenger. " A Raimond ! A 
Raimond !" cried the crowd, as the two combatants dashed 
upon each other. 

" Long life to the Eed Knight," " Success to the Cru- 
sader," was echoed by the fickle multitude, with increased 
satisfaction, as the hero of Toulouse, overthrown bj the 
violence of the shock, struggled beneath his fallen charger, 
while the stranger applying rein and spur, caused his gal- 
lant steed at one bound, to leap over the prostrate horse 
and rider, then dexterously compelling the animal to cari- 
cole gracefully in front of the queen's galley, and lower- 
ing his lance, the victorious knight courteously bowed as if 
laying his honors at the feet of Love and Beauty. The 
prizes for the day were already bestowed ; but the enthusi- 
astic Berengaria found it impossible to let such prowess go 
unrewarded. Hastily untying her scarf, she fastened it to 
the end of his spear, and the Crusader, with the armorial 
bearings of Navarre streaming from his lance, rode slowly 
and proudly from the lists. 

The squires meanwhile had extricated the vanquished 
Kaimond from his perilous position, and conducted him 
to his tent, where his bruises were found to require the skill 
of the leech. All were busy with conjectures concerning 
the unknown, many sage surmises very wide of the truth 
were hazarded by those best acquainted with heraldic de- 
vices, and arguments were rapidly increasing to animosi- 
ties, when the slight tinkling of a bell again drew the at- 
tention, of the concourse. 

" A champion ! A champion," exclaimed they again as 
a second knight, strong and broad-shouldered, sheathed in 
shining black armor, entered the arena. Glimpses of a 
ruddy complexion and sparkling eyes, were visible through 
the jetty bars of his vizor, and a raven with smooth and 
glossy plumage, its beak open, and a bell suspended from 
its neck, was perched upon his helmet. His coal-black steed 
M'^as a war-horse of powerful make, deep-chested and of 
great strength of limb ; his red nostrils distended by 
his fiery impatience, glowed like the coals of a furnace, 



BEREXGARIA OF NAVARRE, 209 

while the gauntleted hand that with matchless slcill con- 
trolled his speed, looked as though it might have belonged 
to a giant of the olden time. The impetuosity of the black 
knight left the spectators not long in doubt of his purpose. 
Count Henry of Champagne was summoned to reassume 
his armor and make good his claim to his recently woA 
laurels. " Pray heaven thine eye and hand falter not, 
Count Henry," exclaimed Sancho, as he personally inspect- 
ed the armor of his friend, and cautioned the squires to 
see that each ring and buckle was securely fastened. " The 
issue of this combat should depend upon thine own right 
arm, not upon a weak spring or careless squire." The 
courtesy of the black knight seemed proportioned to his 
strength and skill. Reining his horse to the left, he gave 
the count the full advantage of the wind and sun, and in- 
stead of meeting him in full career, eluded the shock, 
parried his thrusts with the most graceful ease, and rode 
around him like a practised knight conducting the exer- 
cises of the tilt-yard in such a manner, as to develop and 
display the prowess of an ambitious squire ; and when at 
last Count Henry lost his saddle, it was rather the effect of 
his own rashness, than from any apparent purpose of his 
antagonist ; for exasperated to the last degree at being thus 
toyed with, he retreated to the extremity of the lists, put 
his horse upon its full speed and dashed upon his oppo- 
nent. The black knight perceiving the intent of this ma- 
noeuvre, brought his well- trained steed at once into an 
attitude of perfect repose, and sitting immovable as an 
iron pillar, received the full shock upon his impenetrable 
shield. The horse of the count recoiling from the effect of 
the terrible collision, sank upon his haunches, and the 
girth breaking, the rider rolled in the dust. Something 
like a smothered laugh broke from beneath the bars of the 
stranger's vizor, as he rode round his vanquished foe, and 
extended his hand as though inviting him to rise. But his 
demeanor was grave and dignified, when he presented 
himself before the admiring Berengaria, who in default of 
a better chaplet stripped her tiny hand of its snowy cover- 

14 



210 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

ing, and bestowed the embroidered glov^e as the guerdon 
of his skill. " Part we so soon, sir knight?" said Sancho, 
reining his steed, so as to keep pace with that of his unex- 
pected guest. " I would fain set lance in rest against so fair 
a foe." Without deigning a reply, the knight put spurs to 
Ws horse, and leaping the barriers disappeared in the wood. 
Rejoining his two friends in the pavilion who were con- 
doling with each other over their inglorious defeat, Sancho 
burst into a stream of invective. " Ungrateful cravens," 
cried he, " to repine at heaven's grace. I would have given 
the brightest jewel in the crown of Navarre, for leave to 
set lance in rest against either of jon doughty knights." 
" Thou shouldst have been very welcome," exclaimed 
Kaimond, laying his hand upon his wounded limb. " Our 
Lady grant henceforth that dame Fortune send all such 
favors to thee," and he laughed in spite of his discomfiture. A 
startling blast from the wood interrupted the colloquy, and 
Count Raimond petulantly exclaimed, " Methinks the foul 
fiends have congregated in the forest ! That hath the sound 
of the last trumpet." 

"Aye, verily," replied Count Henry, reconnoitering from 
the door of the pavilion, " and yonder comes Death on the 
pale horse. Prince Sancho, thine hour has come, jirepare 
to meet thy final overthrow." There seemed a terrible sig- 
nificance in the words, for upon a snowy charger, whose 
mane and tail nearly sM^ept the ground, just entering the 
lists, was seen a knight, dressed in a suit of armor of such 
shining brilliancy as almost to dazzle the eyes of the be- 
holders. His crest was a white dove with its wings spread, 
and conspicuous upon his right shoulder appeared a blood- 
red cross. He carried neither lance nor spear, but an im- 
mense battle-axe hung at his saddle-bow. " By my troth," 
said Sancho, " be he the angel of death himself, I will dis- 
pute his empire, even though he bring twelve legions of his 
mysterious retainers to back him. It shall not be said that 
the chivalry of Spain, aye, and of France to boot," casting 
a glance at his crest-fallen friends, "are but trophies of 
the prowess of these unknown demi-gods." " Heaven grant 



BERENGAKIA OF NAVARRE. 211 

thou mayest make good thy boast, for trnl^^ tliese derai-gods 
wield no mortal weapons," said Count Raimond, with a bit- 
ter smile, as the prince anticipating a challenge rode forth 
to meet the white champion. Unpractised in the use of the 
mace, Sancho, whose ire was completely roused at seeing 
the honors of the day borne off by strangers, disregarded 
the laws of the tournament (which required the challenger 
to use the same weapons as his adversary), and seizing his 
spear, attacked his opponent with a fierce energy, which 
showed that he fought for deadly combat, and not for trial 
of skill in knightly courtesy. The brilliant figure, at the 
first rush, bowed his head, till the plumage of the dove 
mingled with the flowing mane of his courser, and sufiered 
the animal to sheer to the right, thus compelling the prince, 
in his onward career, to make a similar involuntary obei- 
sance as the result of his inefiectual thrust. Completing the 
demi volte, the two champions again returned to the onset ; 
and now the mace of the white knight describing shining 
circles round his head, received upon its edge the spear of 
the prince, clave the tough oak wood asunder, and sent the 
spear-head whirling through the air almost to the feet of 
the spectators. A second, a third, and a fourth spear met 
with the same fate. The welkin rang with the applause of 
the beholders. " Bravo, sir white knight !" " Glory to 
the Red Cross !" "Honor to the crusader!" " Death to 
the Paynim," accompanied the flourish of trumpets and 
the shouts of heralds, which, together with the flutter of 
pennons and the waving of signals from the galleries of 
the ladies, showed the exciting interest of the scene. At 
lengtli the dove-crested warrior, by a skilful manoeuvre, 
I ;'ought himself into such proximity as to be able with one 
blow to strike the helmet from the head of his antagonist ; 
at the same moment, however, he extended his hand and 
prevented the unbonneted prince from falling prone beneath 
the feet of his horse. The gallant Sancho thus compelled 
to yield, with knightly grace accompanied his vanquisher 
to Berengaria's throne. "Th}' best guerdon, my sister, for 
thy brother's conqueror," said he. " Beside the arm of 



212 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

Hichard Plantagenet, I thought there was not another in 
Christendom that could break the bars of my vizor and 
leave my skull unscathed. Why dost thou hesitate ?" ex- 
claimed he, observing her embarrassment. "The daughter 
of Sancho the Wise is not wont to be tardy when called 
upon to honor the brave. Has the same blow that still 
keeps the blood dancing in the brain of thy brother, para- 
lyzed thy hand ?" " Nay," said Berengaria, while a bril- 
liant blush suffused her cheeks, " but I would fain see the 
countenance of the brave knight, who carries off the honors 
of the field from such a competitor," and drawing the ring 
of Elsiebede from her finger, she bestowed it upon the vic- 
tor. Rising from his knees, the knight inclined courteously 
to the squires, who with a celerity lent by curiosity, unlaced 
his casque and unfastened his gorget, revealing the face of 
Richard Plantagenet, beaming fair and ruddy from the 
bright yellow curls that clustered round it, and eyes that 
sparkled in the full appreciation of the surprise and merri- 
ment that his unexpected apparition occasioned. "Mon 
cher fr^re," exclaimed Sancho, grasping his hand, " I am 
conquered by Richard, then am I victor. Give me joy, 
knights, ladies, and squires." The heralds taking up the 
word, sounded the tidings through the field, while the spec- 
tators shouted, " A Richard ! a Richard ! Long live the 
gallant Plantagenet !" The Counts of Toulouse and Cham- 
pagne, assisted by their attendants, hastened to the scene, 
and discovering the scarf and glove of Berengaria resting 
beneath the loosened hauberk, recognized each his con- 
queror, and found in that circumstance a greater balm far. 
their wounded pride, than all their bruises had experienced 
from the mollifying appliances of leechcraft. The knights 
challengers thus all vanquished by the single arm of Rich- 
ard, left the field with the highest sense of satisfaction, and 
the ready wit of their champion, pointed the sallies and di- 
rected the mirth of the banquet, which followed, and con- 
tinued long into the night. 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 213 



CHAPTER III. 

" Beslirew your eyes, 
They have o'erlooked me, and divided me ; 
One half of me is yours, the other half yours, 
And so all yours." 

In the general excitement attendant upon the discovery 
of Richard and the breaking up of the tournament, Beren- 
garia had remarked the agitation of Elsiebede, and seized 
an early opportunity to learn the cause. " Where hast 
thou known Count Richard ?" said she in a tone of feigned 
indifference. " I have never seen him till to-day," replied 
the attendant. " But thou didst start and turn pale when 
the White Knight disclosed the features of Plantagenet ?" 
" Aye, because I saw my lady bring a curse upon his head." 
" A curse upon him ? How meanest thou, silly child ?" re- 
plied the princess, growing pale in her turn. " Pardon, 
my dear mistress," continued Elsiebede, falling upon her 
knees, " I should have told you, the ring bestowed upon a 
knight, is a fatal gift." "And why fatal?" inquired Beren- 
garia, somewhat relieved that she had no greater cause for 
disquiet. " I know not why. The jewel of the ring has 
been in the possession of my mother's tribe for many gene- 
rations, and whenever man has called it his own, sorrow 
and distress have followed, till this ti-adition has become a 
proverb. 

"'Twill thwart his wish, and break his troth, 
Betray him to his direst foe. 
And drown him in the sea." 

" Thou art too superstitious," said Berengaria, as her at- 
tendant recited the malediction, with an appearance of the 
most profound sense of its reality ; " but to please thee, foolish 
child, I will regain the toy." Berengaria secretly determined 
to lose no time in relieving Richard from his dangerous pos- 
session, and accordingly lost no occasion for conversing with 



214 HEEOINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

the prince ; but though he treated her with the most dis- 
tinguished courtesy, the term of his visit to ISTavarre expired 
before their acquaintance had ripened into an intimacy 
that would warrant her venturing upon the delicate task of 
reclaiming her gift. Months elapsed before Berengaria 
again saw the knight who had made such an impression 
upon her youthful imagination, and she began to fear that 
the ring had, in reality, conducted him to his predestined 
sepulchre in the sea, when her brother Sancho returning 
from a tour in France, brought intelligence of the most 
gratifying character. " Rememberest thou, my sister," 
said he, " the valiant Plantagenet, who so gallantly bore 
off the honors of our tournament ?" " Aye, verily," replied 
the princess, casting down her eyes. " He has been wan- 
dering through Germany, challenging all true knights to 
chivalrous combat, and has met with many strange adven- 
tures," continued Sancho. " Recount them," said Beren- 
garia, " I listen with attention." " Thou who didst reward 
his valor, as red, and black, and white knight in one day, 
canst well appreciate his partiality for disguises," resumed 
her brother ; " and it seems, that during this expedition, one 
had nearlv cost him his life. Passing throuo-h the domin- 
ions of the King of Almaine, he assumed the dress of a 
palmer, but being discovered, was cast into prison. Ardour, 
the son of the king, learning that a knight of remarkable 
strength and prowess was confined in a dungeon, brought 
him forth and invited him to stand a buffet. Richard ac- 
cepted the challenge, and received a blow that laid him 
prostrate. Recovering himself, he returned the stroke with 
so much force, that he broke the cheek-bone of his antago- 
nist, who sank to the ground and instantly expired. The 
king awakened to fresh transports of fury, at the loss of his 
son, gave orders that the prisoner should be closely fettered 
and returned to the lowest dungeon of the castle. But 
the monarch had, also, a daughter, a princess of great 
beauty, who became exceedingly interested in the man that 
had so dexterously slain her brother. Learning that a plan 
was on foot to make the bold knight the prey of a lion, she 



BEHENGARIA OF NAVAKRE. 215 

found' means to enter his cell, and acquaint liiiu with his 
danger. The bold heart ot" Plantagenet did not fail him 
in this extremity. Rewarding the solicitude of the tender 
Margery with a kiss, he desired her to repair to him in the 
evening, bringing forty ells of white silk, and a supper 
with plenty of good beef and ale. Thus fortified in the 
outer and inner man, he calmly awaited his fate. The next 
day, as soon as the roar of the monster was heard, he wrap- 
ped his arm in the silk, and evading the spring of the 
animal, gave it such a blow in the breast, as nearly felled 
it to the ground. The lion lashing itself with its tail, and 
extending its dreadful jaws, uttered a most hideous yell ; 
but the hero suddenly darted upon the beast, drove his arm 
down the throat, and grasping the heart tore it out through 
the mouth, and marched with his trophy, yet quivering 
with life, to the great hall of the palace, where the king 
with a grand company of dukes and earls, sat at meat. 
Pressing the blood from the reeking heart, Prince Richard 
dipped it in the salt, and offered the dainty morsel to the 
company. The lords rose from the table, and declaring, 
that since the days of Samson, no mortal had achieved so 
wonderful an exploit, dubbed him Coeur de Lion, on the 
spot. The barbarian finding it impossible, longer to detain 
a prisoner who seemed to enjoy the especial favor of Prov- 
idence, bestowed upon him gifts and presents, mounted 
him on a fleet horse, and with great joy, saw him depart. 
A herald has this morning arrived, to say that he wends 
his way hither ; therefore, prepare, my sister, to receive 
the lion-hearted prince, with a state becoming his new 
honors." 

Berengaria needed no second bidding. She was already 
more interested in the gallant Plantagenet than she dared 
confess, even to herself, while the conduct of Richard, ujjon 
his arrival, intimated plainly the attraction that had drawn 
him to Navarre, and the flattering attention with which both 
the elder and younger Sancho treated him, promised fair 
speed to his wooing. He was exceedingly fond of chess, 
and this game served to beguile many hours when the 



216 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

weather precluded more active sports. Though a practised, 
Richard was often a careless player, and his fair antago- 
nist gained many advantages over him, while he perti- 
naciously declared himself vanquished by her beauty rather 
than her skill. The ready blush that followed his compli- 
ments gave occasion for renewed expressions of admira- 
tion, and often in the midst of triumph the victor found 
herself covered with confusion. Many gages of trifling 
value were lost and won between the amicable rivals, but 
it was not till after repeated defeats that Richard began to 
suspect there was some article in his possession that his 
beautiful opponent was particularly anxious to win. He 
playfully proposed to stake his head against one lock of 
her hair, and when he lost the game, gravely inquired 
whether she would accept the forfeit, with its natural fix- 
ture, or whether like the vindictive daughter of Herodias 
she would require it to be brought in a charger, as was the 
head of John the Baptist. Re-arranging the pieces before 
she could interpose a remonstrance, he declared the stakes 
should next be his heart against her hand. The game was 
terminated in his favor. Gallantly seizing her hand, press- 
ing his lips upon it, he protested that in all his tourna- 
ments he had never won so fair a prize ; then suddenly 
exclaiming, ""What magic game is this, in which a man 
may both lose and win ?" he laid his broad palm upon 
his side, and with an appearance of great concern, con- 
tinued, " By the blessed mother my heart is certainly gone ; 
and I must hold thee accountable for its restoration." 

Making a strong effort at recovering her composure, Be- 
rengaria asserted that she had neither lost nor won the 
game, since he had arranged the pieces unfairly, and pro- 
ceeded to capture her queen almost without her knowledge, 
and certainly without her consent. 

The sportive colloquy finally ended in a compromise, 
Richard agreeing that the afiair could justly be accommo- 
dated by Berengaria's staking her heart against his hand, 
and she playfully avowing that a gamester so unprincipled 
might expect to lose both body and soul, if he did not 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 217 

commit tlie arrangements to one of greater probity. The 
keen eye of Plantagenet soon discovered that this game 
possessed an interest for his fair rival far beyond the 
preceding ones, and in doubt whether it arose from her 
anxiety to gain his hand, or from her desire delicately to 
assure him that he could never win her heart, he suffered 
himself to be beaten. The result only increased his per- 
plexity ; for the princess, though evidently elated by her 
success, seriously proposed to relinquish her claim upon his 
hand, in consideration of the ring that glittered upon his 
finger. Too much interested any longer to regard the 
game, Richard pushed aside the chess-board, and fixing his 
eyes upon her, inquired, " Wherefore wouldst thou the 
ring ?" 

The princess more than ever embarrassed by the serious- 
ness of his voice and manner, stammered forth, "The 
jewel is a charm." "True," said Richard, with unaffected 
warmth, " Berengaria's gifts are all charms." " Nay, 
nay !" said she, with uncontrollable trepidation, " I mean 
— I mean — it is a fatal possession." — " Of which I am a 
most undoubted witness," interrupted he, " since by its in- 
fluence I have lost my head, my heart and my hand." 
" Have done with this idle jesting, and listen to me," said 
Berengaria, earnestly. " It will thwart thy dearest wish, 
and betray thee to thy direst foe." " None but Berengaria 
can thwart my dearest wish," said Richard, steadily re- 
garding her, " and from my direst foe," he added, with a 
gesture of defiance, " this good right arm is a sufficient 
defence." Tears shone in Berengaria's eyes, and she add- 
ed, " Why wilt thou misunderstand me ? I tell thee it will 
break thy troth." " Our Lady grant it," responded he, 
with a shout of exultation. " Since the day I first received 
it, I have not ceased to importune King Henry to cancel 
my engagement with Alice of France." The baffled prin- 
cess having no further resource burst into tears. " Nay, 
weep not, my sweetest Berengaria," said Richard, tenderly, 
" the gem is indeed a talisman, since by its aid only have I 
been able to discover the treasure thou hadst so effectually 



218 HEROINES OF THE CKUSADES, 

concealed from my anxious search. Fear no evil on my be- 
half, my poor life has double value since thou hast betrayed 
an interest in my fate." He stooped to kiss the tears from 
her cheek, and passing a chain with a diamond cross about 
her neck, left her alone to recover her composure. 



CHAPTER IV. 

" Ah me 1 for aught that I could ever read, 
Could ever hear by tale or history, 
The course of true love uever did ruu smooth." 

" A LONG and secret engagement, replete with hope de- 
ferred, was the fate of Richard the Lion-hearted and the 
fair flower of Navare." The vexatious wars in which 
Eleanor of Aquitaine constantly involved her husband and 
children occuj^ied Richard in combats more dangerous than 
those of the tourney. The heart of Berengaria was often 
agitated with fears for his safety. She was also compelled 
to reject the addresses of numerous suitors, attracted by 
her beauty and wealth, and she thus subjected herself to 
the imputation of caprice, and the displeasure of her 
father, when her thoughts were distracted by rumors that 
Richard was about to consummate his marriage with Alice. 
An occasional troubadour who sang the exploits of her gal- 
lant lover sometime^imparted new life to her dying hopes, 
and again when a long period elapsed without tidings of 
any kind, she bitterly reproached herself for permitting 
him to retain an amulet which she was so well assured 
would change the current of his aflections ; and notwith- 
standing the general frankness of his character, and the 
unfeigned earnestness of his manner, which more than his 
words, had convinced her of his truth ; she was often tor- 
tured with the suspicion that Richard had only amused 
himself with the artlessness of a silly girl, and had no in- 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 219 

tention of demanding ber of her father. Her only confi- 
dant in the affair was her brother Sancho the Strong, who 
consoled her by violently upbraiding her for the unjust sus- 
picion, and resolutely vindicating the honor of his absent 
friend. While the mind of Berengaria was thus cruelly 
alternating between hope and fear, ber sister Blanche was 
wedded to Tbibaut, brother of Count Henry of Champagne. 
On the festive occasion Richard accompanied the bride- 
groom : and when Berengaria once more read admiration 
and love in eveiy glance of his speaking eyes, and listened 
to his enthusiastic assurances of devotion, and above all, 
when she heard his wrathful malediction against those who 
interposed the claims of Alice, she wondered how she 
could ever have distrusted the sincerity of his professions. 
But though her heart was thus reassured, the first intelli- 
gence that she received from Champagne through the me- 
dium of Blanche, overwhelmed her with new apprehen- 
sions. It was asserted, that an alliance had been formed 
between Richard and Philip, the young King of France, 
to wrest Alice from the custody of Henry, and that the two 
princes, to prove that they looked upon each other as broth- 
ers, exchanged clothing, ate at the same table, and occu- 
pied the same apartment. The confident Sancho even, was 
somewhat shaken by this report ; j^articularly as the Gas- 
con subjects of Richard began to prepare for war. Insti- 
gated by his own doubts, but more especially by the mute 
appeals of Berengaria's tearful eyes, Sancho made a journey 
to the north to prove the guilt or innocence of bis friend. At 
Bordeaux he learned that Richard had gone to Poictiers, 
At Poictiers it was said he might be found at Tours. At 
Tours the rumor was confirmed, that Richard had transfer- 
red his allegiance from Henry to Philip, and that Henry, 
in consequence of his son's rebellion, had fallen sick at 
Chinon, and that Richard had been summoned to that 
place to attend the monarch's death- bed. Without delay, 
therefore, Sancho posted forward to Chinon. As he as- 
cended an eminence commanding a view of the road for 
some distance, be saw a band of armed horsemen riding in 



220 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

advance of him, and thought he discerned, in the van, the 
crest of Richard CcBur de Lion. Putting spurs to his 
horse, he joined the rear of the cavalcade, which proved to 
be the funeral procession of Henry II., led by his erring 
son to the abbey of Fontevraud. The mournful tones of 
the bell mingled with the clanging tread of the mail-clad 
nobles, as solemn and slow they followed the prince up the 
long aisle of the church. The air was heavy with the 
breath of burning incense, and the strong and ruddy glare 
of the funeral torches, revealed with fearful distinctness 
the deep furrows made by age, and care, and grief in the 
noble features of the deceased monarch. The walls draped 
with the sable habiliments of woe, returned the muffled 
tones of the organ, while drooj^ing banners, that canopied 
the bier, shook as with a boding shudder, at the approach 
of the warrior train. One solitary mourner knelt beside 
the altar, a fair-haired youth, whose features of classic 
purity, seemed to have borrowed their aspect of repose from 
the dread presence before him. It was Geoffrey, the 
younger son of Rosamond. The solemn chanting of the 
mass was hushed, and the startled priests suppressed their 
very breath in awe, as heavy sobs burst from the great 
heart of Coeur de Lion, and shook the steel corselet that 
was belted above his breast. Geoffrey silently rose, and 
moving to the head of the bier, left the place of honor to 
his repentant brother. " My father !" exclaimed Richard, 
bending over the dead, and lifting the palsied hand, " My 
father ! oh canst thou not forgive ?" He stopped in speech- 
less horror, for hlood oozed from the clammy lips that till 
now had always responded to the call of affection. 

The sensitive heart of Sancho, wrung with a kindred 
agony, could no longer brook the terrible spectacle. He 
left the abbey, and was followed by one and another of the 
crowd till the self-accusing 'parricide was left alone with 
the body of his sire. 

When the Prince of Navarre returned to Pampeluna, he 
forbore to pain his sister's heart by a recital of the melan- 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 221 

cholj circumstances that had so afl'ected bis own, but he 
carried to her an assurance that Richard would wed only 
Berengaria^ sealed with the mysterious jewel now reset as 
the signet ring of the King of England. He described the 
splendid coronation of his friend, the wealth of his new 
realm, and the enthusiastic rapture with which his new 
subjects hailed his accession to the throne. He also in- 
formed her that Richard, previous to his father's death, had 
taken the cross for the Holy Land, and that all his time 
and thoughts were now occupied in settling the affairs of 
the realm for this object ; and that the alliance with Philip, 
which had caused her so much anxiety, was an engage- 
ment, not to marry Alice, but to enter with the French 
monarch upon the Third Crusade. 

The prospects of her mistress awakened all the enthusi- 
asm of Elsiebede. She dreamed by night and prophesied 
by day of long journeys on horseback and by sea, and she 
interspersed her prognostications with agreeable tales of 
distressed damsels carried off by unbelieving Afrites, and 
miraculous escapes from shipwreck by the interposition of 
good Genii. But though her tongue was thus busy, her 
hands were not idle. She set in motion all the domestic 
springs to furnish forth the wardrobe of her mistress and 
herself with suitable splendor, and amused the needle-wo- 
men with such accounts of eastern magnificence that they 
began to regard the rich fabrics upon which they were em- 
ployed as scarcely worthy of attention. 

In the beginning of the autumn of 1190, Queen Eleanor 
arrived at the court of Navarre to demand of her friend 
Sancho the Wise the hand of his daughter for her son Rich- 
ard. The king readily accepted the proposal, for beside 
being Berengaria's lover, the gallant Plantagenet was the 
most accomplished, if not the most powerful sovereign of 
Europe. Under the escort of the queen dowager the royal 
fiancee journeyed to Naples, where she learned to her mor- 
tification and dismay that her intended lord was not yet 
released from the claims of Alice, and that the potentates 
assembled for the crusade were in hourly expectation of 



222 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

seeing the armed forces of Christendom embroiled in a 
bloody war to decide her title to the crown matrimonial of 
England. 

The forebodings of Elsiebede did not increase her equa- 
nimity. " It is all the work of the fatal ring," said the 
superstitious maiden. " Did I not tell thee it would thwart 
his dearest wish ?" Berengaria could rejjly only by her 
tears. Other circumstances made her apprehensive con- 
cerning the fate of the expedition. The Emperor Frederic 
Barbarossa was among the first of those whose grief arose 
to indignation at the fall of Jerusalem. He wrote letters 
to Saladin demanding restitution of the city, and threaten- 
ing vengeance in the event of non-compliance. The cour- 
teous Infidel replied, that if the Christians would give up 
to him Tyre, Tripoli and Antioch, he would restore to them 
the piece of wood taken at the battle of Tiberias, and per- 
mit the people of the west to visit Jerusalem as pilgrims. 
The chivalry of Germany were exasperated at this haughty 
reply, and the emperor, though advanced in age, with his 
son the Duke of Suabia, the Dukes of Austria and Moravia, 
sixty-eight temporal and spiritual lords, and innumerable 
hosts of crusaders, drawn out of every class, from honora- 
ble knighthood down to meanest vassalage, set out from 
Katisbon for the East. The virtuous Barbarossa conducted 
the march with prudence and humanity. Avoiding as 
much as possible the territories of the timid and treacher- 
ous Greek Emperor, Isaac Angelus, he crossed the Helles- 
pont, passed through Asia Minor, defeated the Turks in a 
general engagement at Iconium, and reached the Taurus 
Ridge, having accomplished the difficult journey with more 
honor and dignity and success than had fallen to the lot 
of any previous crusaders. 

"When the army approached the river Cydnus, the gallant 
Frederic, emulating the example of Alexander, desired to 
bathe in its waters. His attendants sought to dissuade him, 
declaring that the place had been marked by a fatality 
from ancient times ; and to give weight to their arguments, 
pointed to this inscription upon an adjacent rock, " Here 



BEUEKGAKIA OF NAVARRE. 228 

the greatest of men shall perish." But the humility of the 
monarch prevented his listening to their counsels. The icj 
coldness of the stream chilled the feeble current in his aged 
veins, and the strong arms that had for so many years buf- 
feted the adverse waves of fortune, were now powerless to 
redeem him from the eddying tide. He was drawn out by 
the attendants, but the spark of life had become extinct. 

The tidings of this melancholy event came to Berengaria, 
when her heart was agitated by the perplexity of her own 
situation not only, but by the intelligence that Richard's 
fleet had been wrecked off the port of Lisbon, and that he 
was himself engaged in hostilities with Tancred. Coeur 
de Lion was indeed justly incensed with the usurper of his 
sister's dominions. Upon the first news of the fall of Jeru- 
salem, William the Good had prepared to join the crusade 
with one hundred galleys equipped and provisioned for 
two years, sixty thousand measures of wine, sixty thousand 
of wheat, the same number of barley, together with a table 
of solid gold and a tent of silk, sufficiently capacious to 
accommodate two hundred persons. Being seized with a 
fatal disease, he left these articles by will to Henry H. and 
settling upon his beloved Joanna a princely dower, intrust- 
ed to her the government of the island. No sooner was 
he deceased, than Tancred, an illegitimate son of Koger of 
Apulia, seized upon the inheritance and threw the fair 
widow into prison. The roar of the advancing lion startled 
Tancred from his guilty security, and he lost no time in un- 
barring the prison doors of his royal captive. But Richard 
required complete restitution, and enforced his demands by 
the sword. He seized upon Messina, but finally through 
the intervention of the French king, accommodated the 
matter by accepting forty thousand ounces of gold, as his 
father's legacy and his sister's dower. He also affianced 
his nephew Arthur of Brittany, to the daughter of Tancred, 
the Sicilian prince agreeing on his part to equip ten galleys 
and six horse transports for the crusade. Completely recon- 
ciled to the English king, Tancred, in a moment of confi- 
dence, showed him letters in which Philip had volunteered 



224 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

to assist in hostilities against Kichard, This treachery on 
the part of Philip brought matters to a crisis. Seizing the 
evidences of perfidy, Richard strode his way to the French 
camp, and with eyes sparkling with rage, and a voice of 
terrible power, upbraided him with his baseness. Philip 
strongly asserted his innocence, and declared the letters a 
forgery, a mere trick of Richard to gain a pretext for break- 
ing off the affair with his sister. The other leaders inter- 
posed and shamed Philip into acquiescence with Richard's 
desire to be released from his engagement with Alice. 
Some days after the French king sailed for Acre. 

But though the hand of the royal Plantagenet was thus 
free, the long anticipated nuptials were still postponed. It 
was the period of the lenten fast, when no devout Catholic 
is permitted to marry. Eleanor finding it impossible 
longer to leave her regency in England, conducted Beren- 
garia to Messina, and consigned her to the care of Queen 
Joanna, who was also preparing for the voyage. The 
English fleet, supposed lost, arrived in the harbor of Messina 
about the same time, and arrangements were speedily made 
for departure. As etiquette forbade the lovers sailing 
together, Richard embarked his sister with her precious 
charge on board one of his finest ships, in the care of the 
noble Stephen de Turnham, while himself led the convoy 
in his favorite galley Trenc-the-mere, accompanied by 
twenty-four knights, whom he had organized in honor of 
his betrothment, under a pledge that they would with him 
scale the walls of Acre. From their badge, a fillet of blue 
leather, they were called knights of the Blue Thong. 

Thus with one hundred and fifty ships and fifty galleys, 
did the lion-hearted Richard and his bride hoist sail for 
the Land of Promise, that El Dorado of the middle ages, 
the Utopia of every enthusiast whether of conquest, romance 
or religion. 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 225 



I CHAPTER y. 

' llie strife of fiends is on the battling clouds, 
The glare of hell is in these sulphurous lightnings ; 
This is no earthly storm." 

TsusTFULLY aiid gailj as Infancy embarks iij^on the un- 
tried ocean of existence, the lovers left the harbor of Mes- 
sina, and moved forth with their splendid convoy, upon the 
open sea. By day the galley of Berengaria chased the fly- 
ing shadows of the gallant Trenc-the-mere along the coast 
of Greece, or followed in its rippling wake among the green 
isles of the clustering Cyclades ; by night, like sea-fowl 
folding their shining wings, the vessels furled their snowy 
canvass, and with silver feet keeping time to the waves, 
danced forward over the glassy floor of the blue Mediter- 
ranean, like a charmed bride listening to the sound of pipe 
and chalumeaux that accompanied the spontaneous verse 
with which the royal troubadour wooed her willing ear. 

The treacherous calm that had smiled upon the com- 
mencement of their voyage, at length began to yield to the 
changeful moods of the stormy equinox, which like a cruel 
sportsman, toyed with the hopes and fears of its helpless 
prey. Clouds and sunshine hurried alternately across the 
face of the sky. Fitful gusts of wind tossed the waves in 
air or plucked the shrouds of the ships and darted away, 
wailing and moaning among the waters. Then fell a calm 
— and then — with maddening roar the congregated floods 
summoned their embattled strength to meet the mustering 
winds, that, loosened from their caves, burst upon tlie sea 
with terrific power. 

The females crept trembling to their couches, dizzy with 
pain and faint with fear. The sickness of Berengaria in- 
creased to that state of insensibility in which the body, 
palsied with agony, has only power to assist the mind in 
shaping all outward circumstances into visions of hon-or. 

15 



226 HEROINES OF THE CRU3ADE3. 

She was again in the cell of the alchemist ; saw lurid flames, 
heard deafening explosions, with unearthly shrieks and 
groans proceeding fi'om myriads of fiends that thronged 
round her with ominous words and gibing leer. She felt 
herself irresistibly borne on, on, with a speed ever accel- 
erated, and that defied all rescue, and with all there was 
an appalling sense of falling, down, down, down, into inter- 
minable depths. 

The fantasy sometimes changed from herself, but always 
to her dearer self. Richard contending with mighty but 
ineffectual struggles against inexorable Genii, was hurried 
through the unfathomable waters before her, the fatal ring 
gleaming through all their hideous forms upon her aching 
sight ; and the confused din of strange sounds that whirled 
through her giddy brain could never drown the endless vi- 
brations of the whispered words, 

" 'Twill thwart his wish and break his troth, 
Betray him to his direst foe, 
And drowa him ia the sea." 

The capricious winds at length sounded a truce between 
the contending elements. The baflied clouds, like a retir- 
ing enemy, discharging occasional arrows from their ex- 
hausted quivers, hurried away in wild confusion, while the 
triumphant sea, its vexed surface still agitated by the tre- 
mendous conflict, murmured a sullen roar of proud defiance. 
The Princess of Navarre, relieved from the thraldom of 
imaginary horrors, became aware of the actual peril which 
the fleet had encountered. It was in vain that the anxious 
attendants interposed, she persisted in being conducted to 
the deck, whence with longing eyes she gazed in every di- 
rection for the bark of her lover. JS'ot a vessel was in sight. 
A wild waste of waters mocked her anxious scrutiny. Her 
own galley was so far disabled, that it was with much toil- 
ing and rowing, the mariners brought it into Limousa, the 
capital of Cyprus, and no sooner had they cast anchor, than 
Isaac Comnenus, the lord of the island, assailed the stranger 
bark with so much violence, that they were forced to row 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 227 

again with all speed into the offing. While the ship lay- 
thus tossing at the mercy of the waves, dismantled frag- 
ments of shattered wrecks floated by, the broken masts and 
spars contending with the waters, like lost mariners strug- 
gling for life. 

While Berengaria gave way to the harrowing conviction 
that the Trenc-the-mere, with its precious freight, had foun- 
dered in the storm, Kichard, whose ship had been driven 
into Rhodes, was collecting his scattered fleet and scouring 
the sea for his lost treasure. Arrived off Cyprus, he beheld 
the royal galley, and learning that it had been driven from 
the harbor by the pitiless despot, he landed in great wrath, 
and sent a message to Isaac, suggesting the propriety of 
calling his subjects from the work of plundering the wrecks 
to the exercise of the rites of hospitality. 

The arrogant Cypriot answered that, "whatever goods 
the sea threw upon his island, he should take without leave 
asked of any one." " By Jesu, Heaven's king, they shall 
be bought full dear," retorted Richard, and seizing his bat- 
tle-axe, he led his crusaders to the rescue, and soon drove 
the self-styled emperor, with his myrmidons, to the moun- 
tains. Without loss of time, Richard pursued him thither, 
and guided by the heron of burnished gold that gleamed 
from the imperial pavilion, penetrated the camp in the 
darkness, made a great slaughter of the enemy, and 
brought away all the treasure; Isaac again escaping with 
much difficulty. Two beautiful Arab steeds, Fanuelle and 
Layard, fell to the lot of the conqueror. 

" la the world was not their peer, 
Dromedary nor destr^re." 

With this magnificent booty King Richard returned, and 
taking possession of his enemies' capital, made signals for 
the entrance of the galley that had so long kept unwilling 
quarantine without the port. Berengaria, almost overcome 
with fatigue and fear, and fluttered with joy, was lifted on 
shore by the strong arms of the conquering Coeur de Lion. 
As he assisted her trembling steps towards the palace, a 



228 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

Cjpriot of beggarly appearance threw himself on his 
knees before them, and presented to their astonished eyes 
the talismanic ring ! Richard felt his gentle burden lean 
more heavily upon his arm, and saw in her colorless face, 
that all her apprehensions were reawakened. Gently 
whispering her words of encouragement, he turned to the 
stranger, and bursting into a hearty laugh, exclaimed, 
" Ha ! knave, where got'st thou the bauble ? Hast news 
of my chancellor?" The mendicant replied, that a num- 
ber of bodies had floated upon the beach, and that from 
the hand of one he had drawn this ring, which he brought 
to the English monarch in the hope of ransoming his wife 
and family, who had been taken prisoners. Richard, re- 
joiced at the recovery of the valued jewel, readily granted 
the request of the petitioner, adding as a bounty, a broad 
piece of gold. Slipping the signet upon his finger, he 
turned to his fair charge, saying, " Cheer thee, sweet-heart, 
thy ring has accomplished its destiny. The poor chancel- 
lor is ' drowned in the sea,' and thou mayest henceforth 
look upon it with favor, for to-day it shall consummate my 
' dearest wish,' since the good bishop now waits to crown 
thee Richard's queen." 

Relieved, that the ring, after all, boded no evil to Richard, 
and reassured by his words, Berengaria yielded to tlie sweet 
emotions that crowded upon her heart, and joyfully per- 
mitted him to conduct her into the presence of the arch- 
bishop, who, with the knights and nobles, awaited their 
coming. " And there," according to an ancient writer, " in 
the joyous month of May, 1191, in the flourishing and spa- 
cious isle of Cyprus, celebrated as the very abode of the 
goddess of love, did King Richard solemnly take to wife 
his beloved lady Berengaria." The allied crusaders, with 
the consent of the Cypriots, insisted that Richard should 
be crowned King of Cyprus, and a double coronal of gems 
and Fleur-cle-lis, was placed U2:>on the head of the bride, as 
Queen of Cyprus and of England. The daughter of Isaac 
catne soon after to crave the grace of the new sovereigns, 



BERENGAHIA OF NAVARKE. 229 

and the father, resigning his dominions, was bound in sil- 
ver chains, and presented a captive to Berengaria. 

It was now early summer, and the fleet of Richard, re- 
fitted and refreighted from the rich harbors of Cyprus, 
sailed once more for Acre. As they approached the bay, 
they descried a large ship laden to the water's edge, and 
despatched a light vessel to inquire whither she was bound, 
and what was her cargo. Thej'" were answered by an in- 
terpreter, that she came from Apulia, and was laden with 
provision for the French army. Perceiving only one man, 
they insisted on seeing the rest of the crew. Suddenly a 
multitude of Saracens appeared upon deck, and replied by 
a general shout of defiance. Immediately Richard gave 
orders to board the stranger. The oflicers of the light- 
armed galleys felt some hesitation in assailing the lofty 
sides of the Turkish vessel. " I will crucify all my soldiers 
if she escape," cried Plantagenet. His men, dreading more 
their sovereign's wrath than all the arrows of the enemy, 
bent to the oars with all their strength, and drove the sharp 
beaks of their galleys into the sides of the foe. After a 
short contest the Infidels surrendered, and the English 
found upon the prize great quantities of provision, barrels 
of Greek fire, arms, and treasures of gold and silver, which 
they had hardly unloaded when the vessel, scuttled by its 
despairing crew, sank like lead in the mighty waters. 

Elated by this important capture, the Christians pro- 
ceeded on their way. Just without the port of Acre they 
were met by a spy, who reported that the harbor was ren- 
dered inaccessible by a vast chain of iron, which the Sar- 
acens had stretched across the entrance. This formidable 
obstacle lent new vigor to Richard's arm. Selecting the 
largest and strongest galley in the fleet, he filled it with the 
stoutest rowers, took his station on the bows of the vessel, 
ordered it to be directed against the middle of the chain, 
and watching the moment of utmost tension, struck it so 
violently with his battle-axe, that it gave way, and the 
whole fleet passed triumphantly into the harbor. 



%B^ HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

CHAPTER VI. 

SELECTED FROM THE CHRONICLE OF VINSAUF, 1191. 

" On the Saturday before the festival of the blessed 
Apostle Barnabas, in the Pentecost week, King Richard 
landed at Acre with his retinue, and the earth was shaken 
by the acclamations of the exulting Christians. The peo- 
ple testified their joy by shouts of welcome, and the clang 
of trumpets ; the day was kept as a j ubilee, and universal 
gladness reigned around, on account of the arrival of the 
king, long wished-for by all nations. The Turks, on the 
other hand, were terrified and cast down by his coming, for 
they perceived that all egress and return would be at an 
end, in consequence of the multitude of the king's galleys. 
The two kings conducted each other from the port, and 
paid one another the most obsequious attention. Then 
King Richard retired to the tent, previously prepared for 
him, and, forthwith, entered into arrangements about the 
siege ; for it was his most anxious care to find out by what 
means, artifice, and machines they could capture the city 
without loss of time. 

" No pen can sufl&ciently describe the joy of the people 
on the king's arrival, nor tongue detail it. The very 
calmness of the night was thought to smile upon them with 
a purer air ; the trumpets clanged, horns sounded, and the 
shrill intonations of the pipe, and the deeper notes of the 
timbrel and harp, struck upon the ear ; and soothing sym- 
phonies were heard, like various voices blended in one ; 
and there was not a man who did not, after his own fashion, 
indulge in joy and pi-aise ; either singing popular ballads 
to testify the gladness of his heart, or reciting the deeds of 
the ancients, stimulating by their example the spirit of the 
moderns. Some drank wine from costly cups, to the health 
of the singers ; while others mixing together, high and low, 
passed the night in constant dances. 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 281 

"And their joy was heightened by the subjugation of 
the island of Cypmss, by King Richard ; a place so useful 
and necessary to them, and one which would be of the 
utmost service to the army. As a further proof of the 
exultation of their hearts, and to illume the darkness of the 
night, wax torches, and flaming lights sparkled in pro- 
fusion, so that night seemed to be usurped by the bright- 
ness of the day, and the Turks thought the whole valley 
was on fire." 



CHAPTER VII. 

"Out upon tlie fool! Go speak thy comforts 
To spirits tame and abject as thyself; 
They make me mud 1" Baillie. 

Feom the port of Acre, the great plain of Esdraelon 
stretches east to the Lake of Gennesareth, dividing the 
country into two parts. This plain has been the Aceldama 
of the nations that have warred in Palestine. There the 
stars in their courses fought against Sisera, there Saul and 
his sons fled and fell down slain before the Philistines, 
there the good King Josiah was conquered by the Egyp- 
tians, and there the Christians and Moslems with deadly 
enmity contended for the sovereignty of the Holy Land. 
The city of Acre was the possession of the Infidels. Around 
it the besiegers, gathered out of every nation in Euroj)e, 
lay in countless multitudes ; splendid pavilions, gorgeous 
ensigns, glittering weapons, and armorial cognizances of 
every hue and form that individual fancy and national 
i:)eculiarity could suggest, studding the plain, with all the 
varied colors that light weaves upon the changing texture 
of autumn foliage. Beyond the beleaguering forces were 
encamped the sons of Islam, Turks, Tartars, Egyptians, 
and Bedouins, covering mountains, valleys, hills, and 
plains, with white and shining tents, while the black ban- 



232 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

ner of Saladin floated above all in proud defiance of the 
crimson standard of the cross. The arrival of the English 
increased the camp of the crusaders, so that it stretched in 
a semicircle round Acre, from sea to sea, precluding all 
intercourse between the Soldan and the city, while the 
Pisans with their light galleys cut off all supplies by sea. 

Richard with the money he had brought from Cyprus, 
liberally rewarded the valor of the soldiers and diffused 
new courage among the troops. The King of England on 
the coast of Palestine, did not acknowledge himself the 
vassal of the King of France. In the council of the chiefs 
he had equal, if not greater influence, and in matters of 
general interest the rival sovereigns were usually found 
upon opposite sides. Sybilla, wife of Guy de Lusignan, 
was dead. Conrad of Montserrat, Prince of Tyre, having 
married her sister Isabella, claimed the ideal crown of 
Jerusalem. Philip supported the pretensions of Conrad, 
while Richard lent his powerful aid to Lusignan. The 
Genoese and Temj)lars sided with Philip, the Pisans and 
Hospitallers with Richard. Philip strove to seduce the 
vassals of Richard in right of his suzerainship, and offered 
three pieces of gold a month to each of the Norman knights 
that would join his standard, while Richard, more wealthy 
and less ^parsimonious, offered four pieces to such French 
feudatories as would be -induced to fight under the ban- 
ner of England. 

These factions destroyed the unanimity so essential to suc- 
cess, and embarrassed every enterprise. In this posture 
of affairs, both monarchs were attacked with the fever inci- 
dent to the climate, and thus though the garrison of Acre 
were suffering from famine, the besiegers were not in a 
condition to press their advantage. 

King Richard lay tossing upon his couch, consumed with 
fever and impatience, and scarcely enduring the gentle en- 
deavors of his beloved queen to win him from the vexing 
thoughts that disturbed his repose. " Drink, my lord," 
said Berengaria, presenting liim a cooling draught, " and 



BERENGARIA OF NAVAKRK. 233 

compose thyself to rest. The leech saith that sleep is the 
best medicine for these Syrian maladies." 

" Talk of sleep to the steed that hears the war trump, 
but speak not of rest and quiet to Richard while the ban- 
ner of Islam floats in sight of the Christian camp. But for 
this cursed fever I should have stood beside the noble Al- 
beric, and my gallant Knights of the Blue Thong on the 
walls of Acre." 

Berengaria rejiressed an involuntary shudder. " Nay 
then, must I thank God for the fever, since else, we had 
this night to bewail not the loss of the French count alone, 
but the destruction of the bulwark of Christendom." 

" Thou reasonest like a woman, as thou art," said Rich- 
ard, in a petulant tone. "Thinkest thou the English curtel 
axe no better weapon than a Gascon's spear ?" 

" My woman's reason follows the fears of my woman's 
heart," said the queen, her eyes filling with tears, " and 
teaches me were Richard gone, both Palestine and Beren- 
garia would lie at the mercy of the French king." 

"By my halidome thou speakest truth," said Richard, 
tossing uneasily upon his side. "Therefore it chafes me 
to lie here inactive, lest perchance the crafty Philip first 
plant his standard upon the towers of Acre." 

Feeling her utter inability to select topics in which the 
irascible monarch would not find causes of irritation, Be- 
rengaria summoned his favorite Blondel with the lute. But 
scarcely- had Richard consented to listen to a Proven9al 
chanson when the Earl of Salisbury entered. 

" Ha ! Longespee," exclaimed the monarch, " thou hast 
tidings from the leaders of the christian host." 

At the first entrance of Richard's warlike brother Beren- 
garia had retired so as to be invisible to her lord, and mo- 
tioned to silence. Hastily returning Richard's salutation, 
William conferred apart for a few moments with the queen 
and Joanna. 

" The malady increases," said she, in much agitation. 
" Chafe him not with ill tidings, I do beseech thee. Al- 



234 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

ready the fever burns to the verge of madness. Life de- 
pends n])on his repose."" 

" What whisper ye?'' exclaimed Coeur de Lion, startling 
them by his energy. "I tell you I will know all. Long- 
sword, shamest thou the blood of the Plantagenet by coun- 
selling with women and leeches ? Speak, man, I command 
thee." 

!Not daring farther to irritate the imperious invalid, the 
son of Rosamond came forward and stated that the Turks, 
j)erceiving the christian army very much dejected at the 
loss of Count Alberic and his scaling party, had sent to beg 
a truce of eight daj's, promising at the same time, if the 
Soldan did not send them speedy assistance, to give up the 
city, on condition that all the Turks might be allowed to 
depart with their arms and property. In consequence of 
the severe indisposition of Richard, the chiefs had deemed 
it prudent not to disturb him with tiiese matters ; and hence 
the King of France and the Duke of Austria had taken the 
resjjonsibility of returning a favorable answer to the propo- 
sition. 

"By my father's soul," exclaimed Richard, "the son of 
France is more craven than I deemed. To give up the 
prize when just within our grasp is not to be thought of. 
Send the ambassadors to me. They shall find that Coeur 
de Lion will not barter glory for a deserted city. " Go," 
added he, observing the hesitation of Longsword, " and 
venture not into my presence again without the envoys." 

"But the leech said — " interposed Berengaria. "The 
curse of sweet Jesus upon the leech ! Am I to be subject 
to nurses, dosed with phj'sic, and soothed with lullabys, 
like a muling child ? Away ! or my chamberlain shall en- 
force thy absence," said he, darting his first angry glance 
at his trembling queen. 

Finding all remonstrance vain, the discomfited females 
yielded to his impetuosity, only obtaining for themselves 
the grace of being present at the interview. Ill as he was, 
the monarch was clothed in his robes of state ; and with a 
cheek glowing with fever and eyes sparkling with unwonted 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 235 

brilliancy, was supported by cushions npon a settle, hastily 
arranged to answer the purpose of a throne. Scarcely were 
these preliminaries arranged, when the chamberlain ushered 
in Longsword with the envoys. The swarthy Egyptian Mes- 
toc, with his splendid caftan and white turban, particularly 
attracted the admiration of the silent females, and seemed 
to exercise a fascinating power upon Elsiebede, who perused 
his countenance as though she discerned in it the familiar 
features of a friend. 

The anger which Richard had testified towards his at- 
tendants, was modified into a haughty courtesy as he con- 
versed with the noble Saracens. lie cut off at once all 
parley concerning the proposition for permitting the Turks 
to leave the city without ransom, but he graciously accord- 
ed his assent to the truce. Berengaria observed with ter- 
ror that though Caracois exhibited as lively an interest in 
the negotiations as the gravit}'- of the Turks ever allowed, 
Mestoc seemed more occupied in scanning the person of 
the monarch, and regarded with wonder and curiosity the 
signet that glittered upon his finger. 

The conference was scarcely over, when Richard sank 
back pale and exhausted from his recent exertion, and the 
leech being speedily summoned, insisted that the king 
should be left alone with him for the remainder of the 
night. PrejDaring a sleeping draught, and almost forcing 
it down the throat of his refractory patient, he moved the 
light into the anteroom of the tent, and giving the cham- 
berlain strict orders not to admit any one, upon whatever 
pretext, sat down to watch the eifect of his remedies. After 
a few uneasy tossings and muttered ejaculations of vexa- 
tion and disquiet, the monarch sank into a heavy slumber, 
broken only by occasional imprecations against the Infi- 
dels, whom he battled in sleep with an animosity that 
would have done credit to his waking vengeance. 

As the twilight deepened into darkness, the coolness of 
the Syrian evening shed the grateful dew of slumber upon 
the weary eyelids of those who had answered the constant 
demands of the royal invalid, and brought the happy ob- 



236 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

livion of rest to those who had engaged in the more war- 
like duties of the arblast and mangonel. The sounds of 
life gradually decreased, and a profound silence reigned 
throughout the christian camp uninterrupted, save by the 
tread of the patrol who took his weary round upon the out- 
posts, like the sentinel of a beleaguered city. 

In her protracted efforts to quiet the sobbing queen, El- 
siebede learned a curious and inexplicable fact, namely, 
that a greater draft is made upon the patience and energy 
of the nurse by the over-excited feelings of the sensitive 
wife, than by the real wants of the sick man himself. 
Thus the leech had long been dozing upon his watch, ere 
the anxious Moorish girl had found it possible to leave the 
bedside of her mistress. At length the incessant calls upon 
her symj)athy subsided into sighs which gradually relaxed 
into the regular breathing of healthy slumber, and the im- 
patient attendant stealing noiselessly from the apartment 
sought among the attendants for the wily Salaman. 

" Awake, Salaman," she whispered, softly. The black 
instantly arose, without salutation or remark, and stood be- 
fore her rolling his eyes in perfect self-possession, as though 
to repel the suspicion that a person of his active vigilance 
could have been detected in the weakness of slumber. Lay- 
ing her finger upon her lip, Elsiebede led the way among 
sleeping guards to the little enclosure in front of the tent. 
" Bring me," said she, " the signet-ring from the hand of 
the king." Salaman, who had long labored under the hal- 
lucination that no feat could be beyond his ability, looked 
absolutely sober at this unheard-of proposition, ejaculating, 
" It is to put my head into the lion's mouth !" but instantly 
recovering his self-complacency, he added, " Nothing can 
be easier. Remain here till I come." Skilfully avoiding 
the tent ropes, he wormed himself under the folds of the 
pavilion into the outer apartment, where the chamberlain 
and guard were snoring in melodious concert, and carefully 
lifting the curtain entered the royal presence. But through 
the darkness that reigned, he could not readily discern the 



BERENGARIA 01'^ NAVARRE. 237 

precise -location uf the inuiiarcli's couch. Creeping stealth- 
ily over the floor, he first laid his hand upon the foot of the 
physician, which with an instinctive kick warned him of 
his dangerous vicinity. Finally, as his eyes became ac- 
customed to the darkness, he discovered the sparkle of the 
jewel upon the hand of the monarch, hanging over the side 
of the bed. To withdraw the ring from the somewhat at- 
tenuated finger was the work of a moment, but the touch, 
however slight, was sufficient to disturb the slumbering lion. 
" Ha ! the foul fiend !" ejaculated the dreamer, clutching 
the woolly hair of the negro. " The talisman is safe — cheer 
— thee — Berengaria — " Inarticulate sounds followed, which 
finally died away in silence ; when Salaman, with practised 
caution, extricated his head from the lion's paw, and efifect- 
ed his retreat by the same stealthy and tedious process. 
Elsiebede awaited his coming with torturing impatience. 
Grasping the ring, she muffled her face in the veil usually 
worn by eastern females, and bidding him follow her took 
her way towards the city. The moon, just dipping its sil- 
ver rim in the Mediterranean with its parting beam, threw 
the lengthened shadow of the patrol full across their way. 
Cowering behind the awning of a tent they paused breath- 
less and terrified, while the sentinel, turning his face to- 
wards Jerusalem, shouted above their heads in a tone ren- 
dered clear and startling by the stillness of the midnight, 
" Help ! Help ! Help for the Holy Sepulchre !" The ad- 
jacent sentinel took up the cry, repeating the words to his 
neighbor, who passed the watchword on, till " Help ! Help ! 
Help for the Holy Sepulchre !" echoed in all the languages 
of Europe, smote upon the ear of every sleeper in the chris- 
tian camp. When the sounds died away in the distance, 
the patrol continued his round. The terror of Elsiebede 
afforded infinite amusement to Salaman, whose irrepressi- 
ble laughter added to her fears of being discovered, and 
increased her trepidation. 

After this adventure they pursued their course with re- 
newed speed, and arrived without molestation at the out- 
post, where the guard cliallenged their advance. Elsiebede 



238 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES, 

presented the monarch's signet saying, " Delay not our 
errand," and the guard muttering, "There is ever some 
woman's prank in the light head of the queen," suffered 
them to pass. As they took their solitary way between the 
camp and the walls of Acre, Salaman ventured to inquire, 
" Whither goest thou, Elsiebede ?" 

" I scarce know," replied the girl, in a husky voice, " but 
this evening there came before King Richard, one who 
looked upon me with my mother's eyes ; and as he left the 
pavilion, he whispered me in the language of the Gyp- 
tianos, ' Meet me when the moon sets, at the tower of 
Maledictum.' " 

" This way lieth the tower," said Salaman, drawing her 
to the right. They now approached the black and frown- 
ing walls of Acre, and turning an angle came close upon a 
small party of Turks sleeping upon the earth, and were 
challenged in the Moorish tongue. Salaman readily an- 
swered in the same language. Mestoc immediately advan- 
ced, and taking the hand of Elsiebede led her apart, and 
a long and earnest conversation ensued. 

When she returned to Salaman, tears were on her cheek, 
and hiding her face in her veil, with no other explanation 
than, "He is the brother of my mother," she led the way 
back to the royal tent. " Haste thee," said she, thrusting 
the ring into his hand. " Should the prince awake, we are 
lost." Salaman sped on his errand, and rej)eated his 
perilous adventure with success. ISTot daring, however, to 
place the ring upon the monarch's finger, he laid it upon 
the covering near his hand, and effected a retreat, as far 
as the anteroom, where he unluckily stumbled against the 
settle on which rested the guard. The chamberlain instantly 
started to his feet, and Salaman quick as thought over- 
turned the light, and escaped into the sleeping apartment 
of the common attendants, but here his progress was 
arrested by a half-awakened soldier, wlio seized his ankle 
and held him fast. Hither as soon as the lamp could be 
relighted, he was pursued b}' the chamberlain, but such 
was the confusion, betwixt the muttering of those unwilling 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE, 289 

to be disturbed, and the blunders of those who fancied 
themselves broad awake, Ruch was the cursing of devil, 
Turk and Infidel, that no one had the faintest idea of what 
had hapi^ened. Scarcely had the chamberlain fixed his 
e^'es upon the real culprit, when with the angry and impor- 
tant air of a responsible person, most unceremoniously 
wakened, Elsiebede entered, and advancing straight to 
Salaman, seized and began to shake him with the greatest 
violence, thus freeing him from the grasp of the guard. 
" "Waken, minion," said she, " waken, I sa}'. "What gam- 
l«ols art thou playing again in thy sleep ? I warrant me, 
thou hast an unquiet conscience. My lady will send 
thee from her service, if thou dost not confess thy sins, and 
rest in peace." The black rubbed his eyes, and stum- 
bling about like one but half awake, succeeded in gain- 
ing his pallet, and joyfully ensconced himself beneath the 
covering. 

" Thou seest," said Elsiebede, turning to the chamber- 
lain, "the knave hath a trick of sleep-walking. Order 
these that they may remain quiet, for I would not that my 
mistress should be disturbed." Thus saying, she quitted 
the apartment. 

" A trick of walking, he certainly hath," grumbled the 
chamberlain, " but whether sleeping or waking, misdoubts 
me. The misshapen unbeliever can bring no good to a 
christian household." 

In the royal tent, there was still greater clamor. The 
monarch roused by the first unlucky step of Salaman, and 
finding himself in darkness, vociferated loudly for a li^t ; 
but gaining no answer waxed wroth, and seizing the medi- 
cine cup as the readiest missile, hurled it in the direction 
of the snoring physician. The silver coming in contact 
with the skull of the doctor, animated him to a remarkable 
degree ; betwixt the darkness and the pain, he plunged 
about the room without knowing for what intent, till he fell 
prostrate across the couch of the king, who mistaking him 
for an invading Turk, beat him terribly with the pillows ; 
llnd roaring for sword, spear and battle-axe, in the name 



240 HEROINES OF THE CIIUSADES. 

of all the saints in the calendar, defied him to mortal com- 
bat. 

At this juncture the chamberlain returned with the light, 
and seeing the king thus inflicting summary justice upon 
the leech, despite his own vexation burst into a hearty 
laugh, in which Richard, having already expended the su- 
perabundance of his choler, as soon as he comprehended 
the state of the case, joined with the greatest glee. The 
doctor meanwhile failed to see the point of the joke, and 
rubbing his head, declared with professional authority that 
nothing could be worse for the patient than such immode- 
rate exercise and ^laughter. Picking up the cup, with a 
rueful countenance he mixed a fresh potion, which the fa- 
cetious monarch drank to his health, and so composed him- 
self again to rest. 

Coeur de Lion received his ring when it was found upon 
the floor, without any sign of surprise, and readily account- 
ed for its loss, saying, " Our royal signet is scarcely safe 
upon this emaciated hand, especially since we are liable to 
do battle for Christendom without gauntlet or sword." The 
castigation which he had given the doctor put him in such 
high good humor, that he swallowed the necessary nostrums 
with great facility, and the worthy leech fully appreciating 
this part of the joke availed himself of the king's unwont- 
ed condescension, to administer those nauseous restoratives 
which the monarch had before obstinately refused. 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARKK. 241 



CHAPTER VIII. 

"Ah, never shall the laud forget 
HoTV gushed the life-blood of the brave, 
Gushed warm with hope and courage yet 
Upon the soil they fought to save." Bkyant. 

The eight days' truce was over, and Philip, recovered 
from his illness, again led the assault to the walls of Acre. 
Richard, also slowly convalescing, was borne to the scene 
of conflict, where he directed the operations of his warlike 
engines, offering a reward for every stone the soldiers dis- 
lodged from the tower Maledictum. The French had a 
machine of great power which they called " Bad neighbor," 
and the Turks, on their side, opposed to it a similar one 
named " Bad brotlier." These engines were plied day and 
night, and the tower became the scene of every variety of 
fierce attack and resolute defence, both by single combat 
and united effort. One morning a gigantic Turk, wearing 
the armor of Count Alberic, showed himself upon the wall 
in an attitude of defiance, when Richard, who had yielded 
to the representations of the chiefs, so far as to refrain from 
personal encounter, seized an arblast and sent an arrow 
winged with death to the heart of the Infidel. The exas- 
perated Turks ran together to avenge his fall. The Chris- 
tians met them with equal alacrity, and a slaughter ensued 
which continued till the darkness of night separated the 
combatants. 

The Christians had commenced undermining the tower, 
and had proceeded to some distance under the wall, when 
they encountered a pai-ty of Turks who were mining for 
egress in the opposite direction. The noise of the digging 
and the uncertain light had prevented each from discovering 
the other, till the earth, suddenly giving way between them, 
the foes stood face to face, mattocks and shovels in hand. 
But when the astonished Turks saw that they had thus as- 

16 



242 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

sisted the Christians to enter the city, they fled with great 
precipitation, and at once closed up the entrance. That 
night a part of the tower Maledictum fell, and the Sara- 
cens perceiving that all further resistance would be vain, 
ofiered conditions of peace. They agreed to give up the 
city of Acre with all the treasures contained in it, both in 
money, arms, and clothing, to pay over two hundred thou- 
sand Saracenic talents, and restore the true cross which 
had been taken by the Moslems in the battle of Tiberias. 
After much debate the council of chiefs acceded to these 
proposals, and all the Paynim noblemen in the city were 
given up as hostages till the conditions should be fulfilled. 
The preliminaries arranged, the gates were thrown open, 
and the Turks with grave but cheerful countenance and 
■nndannted demeanor passed out of the city through the 
Christian camp towards Tiberias. 

SELECTED FROM VINESAUF. 

" At last when all the Turks had departed, the Chris- 
tians with the two kings at their head, entered the city 
without opposition through the open gates with dances and 
joy, and loud vociferations, glorifying God, and giving 
Him thanks, because he had magnified His mercy to them, 
and had visited them and redeemed His people. Then the 
banners and various standards of the two kings were raised 
on the walls and towers, and the city was equally divided 
between them. They also made a proportionate division 
of the arms and provisions they found ; and the whole 
number of captives being reckoned, was divided by lot. 
The noble Caracois, and a large number fell to the lot of 
the King of France ; and King Richard had for his portion 
Mestoc and the remainder. Moreover, the King of France 
had for his share the noble palace of the Templars, with 
all its appurtenances ; and King Richard had the royal 
palace, to which he sent the queens with their damsels and 
handmaids ; thus each obtained his portion in peace. The 
army was distributed through the city, and after the pro- 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 243 

tracted contest of so long a siege, gave themselves in- 
dulgence, and refreshed themselves with the rest they 
needed." 

'No sooner were the Crusaders settled in the city than 
new troubles arose. Leopold, Duke of Austria, being a rel- 
ative of Isaac Comnenus, who had joined the Templars, 
insisted that the Cypriot lady should be transferred to his 
custody ; but Berengaria having become tenderly attached 
to her, refused to give her up. The quarrel ran high, and 
the exasperated Richard, in a moment of wrath, tore down 
the banner of Austria from the walls of Acre. This indig- 
nity gave rise to a mortal enmity, which hindered the arms 
and embarrassed the counsels of the croises during the 
whole camj^aign. The Christians, however, repaired the 
shattered walls and dwellings of the city, the clergy re- 
built and consecrated the altars, and the army watching 
for the fulfilment of Saladin's promises, rested from their 
fatigues in the enjoyment of security and luxury. Before 
the expiration of the period granted for the redemption of 
the hostages, Philip Augustus, feigning illness, but in reality 
suffering with a consuming jealousy of the superiority of 
his rival, declared his intention of returning to Europe. 
The chiefs assembled in council protested against this un- 
worthy desertion of the common cause, since Saladin, de- 
pressed by the fall of Acre, was in no situation to contest 
their route to Jerusalem. When Kichard heard of Philip's 
determination, he outdid himself in the curses and male- 
dictions he called down upon the recreant prince, and per- 
emptorily refused to hold any communication upon the 
subject : but at last having expended the violence of his 
anger, he compromised by giving his consent to the measure 
on condition that the Duke of Burgundy and a large part 
of the French should remain in Syria, and that Philip 
should make oath to leave the realm of England unmolest- 
ed, till forty days after Richard should himself return to 
his dominions. The French monarch then left Acre amidst 
the hisses and imprecations of the spectators. He stopped 



244 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

at Tyre, and resigning to Conrad his claim upon the con- 
quered city, and the ransom of the Turkish captives, sailed 
for Europe. The term fixed for the redemption of the hos- 
tages had well nigh expired, and still Salad in protested his 
inability to find the true cross, and under different pretexts 
excused himself from redeeming the prisoners. 

The palace of the Emir in Acre, with its sheltered veran- 
dahs, cooling fountains, and richly cultivated gardens af- 
forded a delightful residence for the household of Coeur de 
Lion. Elsiebede, in whom it revived the recollections of 
her childhood in the Alhambra, revelled in luxuries, each 
of which was endeared by happy associations. 

A safe retreat being thus provided for his tender charge, 
Richard, intending as soon as practicable to commence his 
route to Jerusalem, ordered the petrarias, mangonels, and 
other warlike engines to be packed for transportation. He 
also despatched messengers to Conrad, Prince of Tyre, re- 
quiring him to repair with his hostages and army to Acre, 
to receive his share of the ransom, and to be ready to march 
against the Infidels. The marquis refused ; declaring that 
lie dared not venture into Richard's presence, and that if 
the true cross were ever recovered, he was to receive half 
of it for the King of France, and until that time he should 
not give up the hostages. 

A longer period having elapsed than that which had 
been assigned for the treaty, the council of chiefs was 
called to deliberate upon the fate of the captives. To 
leave three thousand prisoners without a sufiicient guard, 
would be to surrender the city again to the Turks. To at- 
tempt to convey them with the army would be an incon- 
ceivable burden, attended with infinite danger. To pro- 
vision such a multitude, whether in the city or camp, would 
be an intolerable tax upon the rapidly exhausting finances ; 
and to set them free would he to add that number of active 
warriors to the ranks of their vigilant foe, and so to defeat 
the very end of the expedition. It was therefore deter- 
mined that the hostages, on the following day, should be 
led forth upon an adjacent hill, and executed for the discom- 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 245 

fiture of the Mobammedans, and the edification of all true 
Christians. 

The noble Mestoc, considered as one of the most im- 
portant and valuable of the hostages, received distinguish- 
ing marks of favor. He was lodged according to his rank, 
and enjoyed a freedom beyond that extended to the other 
prisoners, and thus Elsiebede obtained frequent interviews 
without giving rise to a suspicion of the relationship be- 
tween them. 

On the evening of the council of the chiefs, Salaman had 
managed, by means best known to himself, to hear all that 
passed, which he faithfully reported to Elsiebede. 

The following night, as Mestoc was quietly reposing un- 
conscious of the fate that menaced the Turkish prisoners, 
he was surprised by a visit from his niece, who, informing 
him of the purposes of the Christians, besought him to make 
his escape in a disguise she had prepared for the purpose. 

The noble Egyptian refused, but moved by her plead- 
ings, said to her, " Hadst thou a messenger by whom 1 
might transmit a token to the Soldan — but no, the gray of 
night already foretelleth the dawn. It is too late. Had 
the Soldan valued the poor services of his servant, he had 
not left him to die by the hand of a christian dog. Allah 
be praised, Death is the key that opens the gate of Para- 
dise." 

Finding further importunity vain, Elsiebede with many 
tears took her departure, revolving in her mind other meth- 
ods of procuring a release. 

At early morning, the prisoners were conducted in mourn- 
ful procession through the gates of the city, by a great mul- 
titude of the most devout and warlike Christians, who, ac- 
cording to a contemporary writer, " marched forward with 
delight to retaliate with the assent of Divine Grace, by 
taking revenge upon those who had destroyed so many of 
the Christians with missiles, bows, and arbalests." 

A report from an unknown source was in circulation 
among the soldiers, that fresh promises of ransom had been 
received from Saladin, and that if the execution could be 



246 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

delayed till evening, messengers would arrive with the 
treasure. By this artifice the chief emirs were preserved 
till long past noon. But no sign of rescue then ajDpearing, 
those who looked for the downfall of Mohammedanism by 
the utter annihilation of its followers, caused the work of 
vengeance to proceed. 

The calm indifference with which the Turks regarded the 
terrific preparations for their execution, elicited even the 
admiration of the Christians. It was not in the heart of a 
chivalrous knight like Richard, to look unmoved upon the 
destruction of his brave and gallant foes. " By the holy 
saints," exclaimed he, " this is a hangman's work. It were 
enough to tempt the sword of a Christian knight from its 
scabbard, to see yon lion-hearted warriors slaughtered like 
a parcel of silly slieep held in the butcher's shambles. 
Wore they but the cross upon their shoulders, I would 
sooner reckon them among my followers than the stupid 
boors of Austria or the tilting squires of France. Long- 
sword, summon our good bishop of Salisbury, with the sjm.- 
bols of our holy religion, Peradventure, Divine Grace may 
turn the hearts of these brave men to the acknowledgment 
of the true faith." 

In obedience to the order of the king, the bishop came 
forward, and holding up the cross, proclaimed life and lib- 
erty to all those who would renounce their heathen super- 
stitions, and reverence the holy symbol. Not a voice re- 
plied to the oifer of pardon, and as the priest, followed by 
the executioner, like the destroying angel of the passover, 
moved among the ranks of the doomed and presented the 
crucifix, each man answering, " God is God and Mahomet 
is his prophet," bent his head to the fatal stroke, till of the 
whole number the noble Mestoc alone remained. King: 
Hichard regarded him with a troubled look, as the priest 
approached, and involuntarily raised his hand to stay the 
blow. The executioner paused ; and the soldiers gazing in 
silent wonder, turned their eyes doubtfully from their sov- 
ereign to his captive, who stood unmoved among the head- 
less bodies of the heroic band, that had with him defended 



BEKENGAKIA OF NAVARRE. 247 

the cit}^ to the last extremity, and that now lay stretched 
around him, the bleeding holocaust upon the altar of a 
strange faith. 

The death-like silence that prevailed was broken by the 
faint sound of a trumpet, and at a distance was seen the 
flutter of a truce flag borne by a herald riding at full speed. 
The messenger advanced to the field of blood, hastened to 
the royal presence and presented a letter. The king cut- 
ting the silk with his sword, rapidly ran his eye over the 
contents, and then advancing, frankly extended his hand 
to the rescued Mestoc, saying, " Thy Soldan has at length 
fulfilled the conditions of thy ransom. I grieve that he so 
little valued the lives of thy brave companions. His tardy 
measures forced me upon an evil work. Heaven grant that 
one day I may, upon his own person, be able to avenge 
their death." Then, ordering the squires to prepare the 
Cypriot horses, he held the stirrup Avhile the gallant Emir, 
with the same grave and tranquil air, that had character- 
ized him through the whole of that eventful day, mounted 
Lyard, and himself vaulting upon the saddle of the beau- 
tiful Fanuelle, led the way to the palace. 

EXTRACT FROM VINESAUF. 

" On the morrow, therefore, of St. Bartholomew, being 
Sunday, the army was drawn up, early in the morning, to 
advance along the sea-coast, in the name of the Lord. Oh ! 
what fine soldiers they were ! You might there see a 
chosen company of virtuous and brave youth, whose equals 
it would have been difiicult to meet with, bright armor and 
j)ennons, with their glittering emblazoning; banners of 
various forms ; lances with gleaming points ; shining hel- 
mets, and coats of mail ; an army well regulated in the 
camp, and terrible to the foe ! King Richard commanded 
the van, and kept the foremost guard. The Normans and 
English defended the standard, the Duke of Burgundy and 
the French brought up the rear, and by their tardy move- 
ments and long delay incurred severe loss. The army 



24:8 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

marcLed from the seashore, which was on its right, and 
the Turks watched its movements from the heights on its 
left. On a sudden the clouds grew dark, the sky was 
troubled, when the army arrived at the narrow roads im- 
passable for the provision wagons ; here, owing to the 
narrowness of the way, the order of march was thrown into 
confusion, and they advanced in extended line, and with- 
out discipline. The Saracens, observing this, poured down 
suddenly upon the pack-horses and loaded wagons, slew 
both horses and men in a moment, and plundered a great 
deal of the baggage, boldly charging and dispersing those 
who opposed them, as far as the seashore. Then there took 
place a fierce and obstinate conflict ; each fought for his 
life. Oh, how dreadfully were our men then pressed ! for 
the darts and arrows thrown at them broke the heads, arms 
and other limbs, of our horsemen, so that they bent, stun- 
ned to their saddle-bows ; but having quickly regained 
their spirits, and resumed their strength, and thirsting for 
vengeance, like a lioness when her whelps are stolen, they 
charged the enemy and broke through them like a net. 
Then you might have seen the horses with their saddles dis- 
placed, the Turks fleeing and returning, and the battle 
raging fiercer than before ; the one side labored to crush, 
the other to repel ; both exerted their strength with the ut- 
most fury, till King Richard hearing that the rear was put 
into great confusion, rode at full gallop to their assistance, 
cutting down the Turks right and left like lightning with 
his sword. And quickly, as of yore tlie Philistines fled 
from Maccabeus, so were the Turks now routed, and so did 
they fly from the face of King Richard and make for the 
mountains ; but some of them remained amongst us, having 
lost their heads." 

This extract is a fac-simile of all tho ciiancea 9ud changes 
that occurred to the Christians on the^i prs^^ao^ f\*^»> Acre 



BEKENGARIA OP NAVARRE. 249 



CHAPTER IX. 

"He that bath nature in him, must be grateful; 
'Tis the Creator's primary great law, 
That liuks the chain of beings to each other." 

At Jaffa a new contention arose. The French barons, 
fatigued with marching and fruitless skirmishing, advoca- 
ted the policy of remaining a time in the city and rebuild- 
ing its fortifications ; while Plantagenet, anxious to press 
his advantage, was desirous of proceeding to Ascalon. 
The soldiers remembering with regret the " loaves and 
fishes" of Acre, inclined to the counsel of the Duke of Bur- 
gundy, and Richard was forced to submit his better judg- 
ment to the unanimous voice of his followers. 

It was in vain that the king urged the soldiers to a rapid 
completion of the works. The summer faded into autumn, 
and the fortifications were still incomplete. The Moslems 
began to collect in the vicinity of Jaffa, and all parties of 
Christians, whether of foraging or falconry, were subject to 
frequent surprise and attack. On one occasion, a partj^ of 
Templars fell into an ambuscade of the Turks, and Rich- 
ard, hearing of their danger, rushed out with a few troops 
to their assistance. The conflict was dreadful. Hordes of 
Infidels fell upon the little band, who, struggling in the 
midst of their foes, with great loss carved their way to the 
city. On their return, William Longsword remonstrated 
with the monarch for this useless exposure of life, to which 
the generous Coeur de Lion, changing color with indigna- 
tion, replied, " Richard Plantagenet knows not the pru- 
dence that weighs safety against glory, and for the rest it 
is the office of a king to defend his subjects, and the busi- 
ness of a crusader to destroy the enemies of the cross." 

The defences of Jaffa being complete, Richard prepared 
to prosecute the war with vigor. Leaving the city with a 
small garrison, he led his troops as far as Ramula, and 



250 .HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

made their camp on the bloody field where Stephen, Earl 
of Blois, received his mortal wound. A winter of extra- 
ordinary inclemency aggravated their hardships. The 
winds tore up the tents, and the rain spoiled the provisions, 
and rusted the arms. Through the hovering myriads of 
Saracens the Christians pressed their way almost in sight 
of Jerusalem. Richard was animated by the most ardent 
expectation. But the Templars, Hospitallers and Pisans, 
represented the impossibility of capturing the city, with 
their army in its present condition, the impracticability of 
garrisoning it against the Turks in the neighborhood, and 
the certainty that the soldiers as soon as the sepulchre was 
recovered, would return to Europe, leaving the rest of 
Palestine in the hands of the Infidels. Influenced by these 
unanswerable arguments, the disappointed king gave orders 
to fall back upon Ramula, and continued to retrograde with 
his murmuring and discontented army to Ascalon, a city 
of great consequence, being the link between the Turks in 
Jerusalem, and the Turks in Egypt. The pains and perils 
of this backward march eclipsed all former sufie rings, and 
when the dismantled walls of Ascalon at length received 
them, Famine stared upon them with her hollow ej^es, and 
Faction with its sharpened fangs tore asunder the remaining 
cords that bound together the wasted body of the croises. 
The Duke of Burgundy deserted the standard of Eichard, 
part of the French soldiers retired to Jaffa, others to Acre, 
and others to Tyre; and while the proudest nobles and the 
most dignified of the clergy were employed like the mean- 
est vassals, in repairing the ruined fortifications, Leopold 
wrapped in haughty selfishness surveyed the works with 
contemptuous sneers, and remarked, "The father of Aus- 
tria was neither a carjDenter nor a mason." 

The Tm*kish Soldan aware of the distress of his enemies, 
considered the war as nearly at an end, and dismissed a 
portion of his troops. He even extended the courtesies of 
civilized life to the valiant Richard, furnished his table with 
Damascene pears, peaches, and other delicacies, and with a 
liberal hand supplied the snow of Lebanon to cool his wines. 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE, 251 

The chief emirs who, attracted bj curiosity or admira- 
•tion, visited the court of the British Lion, returned with 
tlie most exaggerated accounts of the urbanitj and prowess 
of the gallant " Melech Kic." 

One morning, at an hour somewhat earlier than his usual 
levee, Richard was surprised by a visit from Mestoc, ac- 
companied by a female closely veiled. " "Welcome, my 
noble Moor," exclaimed the king, as the Saracen advanced 
and bowed with the ceremonious obeisance of eastern 
courtesy. "Heaven bless the chance that hath brought 
thee hither. 'Next to a trusty friend, Plantagenet holds in 
honor a worthy foe." 

The Saracen gravely replied, " The Melech Ric wrongs 
the errand of his servant, if he discern not in his ransomed 
captive, one whom he hath made his friend." 

" I doubt not the truth of thy saying," replied the king, 
" since reason and experience teach that ingratitude is in- 
compatible with true courage." 

"The chief of the Egyptians is, indeed, thy friend," 
continued Mestoc ; " but were he twice thy foe, he brings 
a passport to the heart of the king, for ' from the place of 
the beloved, a zephyr hath blown, and thou seest one 
whose presence is as the breath of the heliotrope.' " Turn- 
ing to his companion, he lifted her veil, and disclosed the 
features of Elsiebede. 

" Elsiebede !" exclaimed the monarch, in astonishment 
and alarm. "What of my queen? of Joanna? of Eng- 
land ?" 

" My royal mistress is in health," replied Elsiebede, "and 
by this token," handing him a casket, " commendeth her 
love to her absent lord : and j^eace resteth upon the house- 
hold." 

" And wherefore comest thou hither ? and why under 
such convoy ?" inquired Richard. 

" The errand of my mistress required a faithful messen- 
ger; and the chief will explain the mystery of my com- 
ing," replied the girl. 

With a puzzled look, Richard turned to Mestoc. "It is, 



252 UEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

perhaps, unknown to the prince of the west," said the 
chieftain, " that this damsel, Elsiebede, is the daughter of 
my sister." 

" How ?" exclaimed Richard, gazing with astonishment 
upon the Moorish girl. " Our fair queen has long blinded 
our eyes to other beauty, or we should have seen what the 
most careless observer could not fail to note, that she has 
the countenance and bearing of a princess." 

" The family of the Prophet (blessed be he)," said Mes- 
toc, his swarthy cheek reddening with a touch of pride, 
" boasts not a more noble origin, than the Gyptianos slave 
of the Frankish queen." 

" But by what means hath she discovered herself to thee 
in this strange land?" inquired Richard. 

" "What saith the proverb ?" replied the Saracen. " ' The 
heart thrills at the sound of the kinsman's voice.' "When 
the Melech Ric gave audience to the ambassadors of Sal- 
adin, the ring upon his finger, once the talisman of our 
tribe, arrested my gaze ; but the maiden's eyes, brighter than 
the jewel, moved me to speak to her in the Egyptian tongue. 
She comprehended my words, and met me that night at the 
tower Maledictum, where I learned her history and made 
her acquainted with her kindred. She visited me in prison, 
and when I refused to fly, despatched Salaman to the Sul- 
tan to beg my life. For the rest, thou knowest that I thank 
the brave leader of the Franks no less than the timely ran- 
som for my rescue. Before leaving the camp of the Lat- 
ins I gave the zealous Ethiope a passport, commanding all 
true Mussulmans to bring him wherever found.^ safe to my 
presence. "When, therefore, thy queen, distressed by the 
enemies in tliine own household, sought for means to com- 
municate with thee, Salaman conducted Elsiebede to mj'- 
tent ; and I have hasted to convey her to my deliverer. 
For what saith the proverb ? ' In the sky it is written, 
on the pages of the air, he who doeth kind actions will 
experience the like.' Notwithstanding, let tlio damsel, 
I pray thee, depart with me ; in the tent of my women she 
shall have carefnl attendance. If thou wouldst confer with 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 253 

her, the cunning Ysop knows her place of rest." Kichard 
assented, and the Saracens withdrew. 

The letters from the queen contained intelligence of the 
most startling character. The Genoese and Pisans, rivals 
for the carrying trade of the East, had made Acre their 
seaport, and to give dignity to their commercial animosi- 
ties had espoused, the one the party of Conrad, the other 
that of Guy de Lusignan. Their feuds had kept the resi- 
dents of the city in a constant state of apprehension, and 
Berengaria entreated her lord to return to Acre, or to cause 
her immediately to be transported to Jaifa. In the same 
package were despatches from England, of a nature equally 
alarming. No sooner had Philip reached Italy than he 
applied to Pope Celestine for a dispensation from his oath 
to leave Richard's domains in quiet. When that request 
was denied, he proceeded in a covert manner to detach 
Prince John from his allegiance, promised him Alice in 
marriage, and offered to make him lord of all Richard's 
possessions in France, The prompt measures of Queen 
Eleanor had in some degree counteracted this design. 
Forbidding John, under the penalty of a mother's curse, to 
invade his brother's rights, she conveyed the hapless Alice 
to the strong castle of Rouen, where she subjected her to 
an imprisonment more rigorous than she had herself suf- 
fered in Winchester. The principal barons had leagued 
with John, or against him, and the whole realm was in a 
state of ferment. 

The political troubles of England, the treachery of the 
French king, the solicitude of his beautiful queen, and the 
dubious prospects of the crusade, raised a tumult of agita- 
ting thoughts in the mind of the king, and he passed the 
night in a state of sleepless excitement. Scarcely waiting 
for the dawn, he summoned Salaman and despatched him 
for Mestoc. Impelled by the pressing exigencies of the 
case, he intrusted the generous foe with a knowledge of the 
embarrassments of his position, and entreated his good 
offices in bi'ingi ug about an accommodation with Saladin, 
stijmlatiiig <'nly tor the possession of Jerusalem and the 



254 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

restoration of the true cross. The Saracen undertook the 
commission, and after three days retm-ned with the answer. 
With the stateliness of eastern formality the Mussulman 
declared his strong desire of peace, and his admiration of 
the courage and abilities of Plantagenet ; but he asserted 
that he could never resign Jerusalem, since the sacred city 
was as dear to the Moslem as the Christian world, and that 
the principles of his religion forbade his conniving at 
idolatry by permitting the worship of a piece of wood. 
Thwarted in this negotiation, Richard again employed Mes- 
toc to propose a consolidation of the Christian and Moham- 
medan interests by the establishment of a government at Je- 
rusalem, partly European and partly Asiatic, which should 
secure to the pilgrims free access to the Holy Sej)ulchre, and 
feudal rights to all Christians who should choose to settle in 
Palestine. Mestoc returned from this embassy accompa- 
nied by a young Emir named Saphadin, a brother of" the 
Turkish emperor. The overture of Coeur de Lion had been 
favorably received by the sagacious Saladin, but foreseeing 
that a stronger bond than a political alliance would be ne- 
cessary to bind the two nations together, he had added to 
the articles the proposition of a union between his brother 
and the fair sister of Melech Ric. Saphadin was also 
commissioned to conduct the English king and his followers 
in safety to Acre, 



CHAPTER X. 

" A pea — to register ; a key, — 
That Tviuds through secret wards; 
Are well assigned to Memory, 
By allegoric bards. 



"When Richard arrived at Acre, he found affairs in the 
greatest confusion. The dissensions between the I'ival par- 
ties had terminated in open hostilities, more pressing mes- 
sages urging his return had arrived from England, and he 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE, 255 

was forced to the couclusion that without some concession 
on his part, the whole crusade would prove an entire failure. 
The military abilities of Guy, were inferior to those of 
Conrad. Richard thus found it easy to satisfy his claim 
by bestowing upon him the rich and beautiful island of 
Cyprus, while he conciliated the Genoese, by consenting 
to the coronation of the Marquis of Tyre. 

Matters being thus accommodated between the jealous 
mercenaries, the mind of the king recurred to the original 
project of identifying the interests of the east and west, by 
uniting the heir of the thousand tribes, with the daughter 
of Henry Plantagenet. But Joanna, less susceptible of ro= 
raantic enthusiasm than her mother, steadfastly rejected 
the offer of her Paynim lover, and the bishop of Salisbury, 
with other zealous priests sustained her decision, and Coeur 
de Lion overborne by their clamor, was forced to relinquish 
his cherished project. As some slight compensation to the 
disappointed Saphadin, he conferred upon him the honor 
of knighthood, aaid dismissed him with the strongest ex- 
pressions of favor. Coeur de Lion then despatched a band 
of nobles to bring Conrad, the newly elected king, witli all 
due honor to Acre. 

Delighted with his splendid prospects, Conrad ordered 
magnificent preparations to be made for the ceremony of 
coronation, and gave himself up to the most extravagant 
joy. But returning one day from an entertainment given 
by the bishop, he was suddenly seized and stabbed by two 
assassins, followers of the Old Man of the Mountain. 

His sudden death threw affairs again into confusion. 
The French who were encamped outside of Tyre, to the 
number of ten thousand, called upon the widow to give up 
the city for the service of King Philip. This she steadily 
refused to do ; declaring that her lord had commanded 
her with his dying breath to resign it to no one but Rich- 
ard, or whosoever should be elected King of Palestine. 
The French at once commenced hostilities, and the sie^e 
of the city had been some time in progress, when Count 
Henry of Champagne arrived in the camp. He was one 



256 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

of the most powerful vassals of the King of France ; his 
mother was the half-sister both of Richard and Philip ; his 
father had twice visited the Holy Land, and he was him- 
self faithful to the interest of the crusade, and a general 
favorite among the warriors. The French leaders besought 
him to accept the crown of the kingdom, marry the widow 
of the marquis, and heal the dissensions that embarrassed 
the movements of the croises. Richard's consent to this 
measure was easily obtained. The nuptials were solemnized 
with royal magnificence, and the new king immediately 
published an edict, calling upon all his subjects to arm for 
the ensuing campaign, and join the English forces at Acre. 
Before they were ready to set out for the final conquest of 
the Holy City, fresh accounts were received from England 
of the increasing power of Prince John, and the treachery 
of Philip Augustus, but Richard disregarding these press- 
ing calls, determined to strike one more blow for the Holy 
Sepulchre. Hymns and thanksgiving testified the popular 
joy, and so sanguine were the soldiers of the speedy accom- 
plishment of their wishes, that they carried with them only 
a month's provisions. When they reached Bethlehem, the 
heats of summer had already commenced, and Richard 
began to feel that his force was not suflicient to encounter 
the hardships of the siege, and keep up communication 
with the stores upon the coast. It was therefore agreed 
that a council should be held, consisting of 'twentj^ persons ; 
five Templars, five Hospitallers, five French nobles, and five 
native Christians of Syria, to decide upon the measures to 
be adopted. They ascertained that the Turks had destroy- 
ed all the cisterns within two miles of the city, that the 
waters of Siloa would be insufiicient for the use of the 
army, and as the siege was therefore utterly impracticable, 
they gave it as their unanimous opinion that the most eligi- 
ble plan, would be to proceed direct against Babylon. The 
French stoutly opposed this project, declaring that they 
would march nowhere else than to the siege of Jerusalem. 
The debate grew so warm that the Duke of Burgundy with- 



BERENGAKIA OF NAVARRE. 257 

drew lijs forces from the main body of the army, and took 
lip a separate position. 

Harassed by conjectures concerning the condition of his 
English subjects, discouraged at the disaffection of his sol- 
diers, grieved at the sight of sufferings which he could not 
alleviate, and mortified with the prospect of a final failure 
of his enterprise, Richard strolled from the camp to the 
brow of an adjacent eminence. Occupied by sad and 
gloomy meditations, he walked, with his eyes fixed on the 
ground, unaware of the extensive prospect that spread out 
before him, nor was he conscious of companionship, till 
William Longsword taking his arm, disturbed his reveryby 
saying, "This way, sire, from yonder point can be seen 
where the setting sun gilds the towers of Jerusalem." In- 
stinctively the lion-hearted monarch raised his broad shield 
to shut out the view, while tears forced themselves from his 
manly eyes. " Nay, my brother," said he, " since God 
forbids to my unworthy arm the redemption of his Holy 
Sepulchre, I may not bless myself with a sight of his sa- 
cred city." He turned away, and silently retraced his 
steps. 

That night as he lay tossing upon his couch unable to 
sleep, he was surprised by a stealthy visit from Salaman. 
The officious black had gained permission of Mestoc to con- 
duct the king to the cell of a hermit, who dwelt in one of 
the rocky caves with which the wilderness of Judea abounds. 
The devout man, whose venerable countenance and solemn 
appearance gave a strong guaranty for his truth, received the 
king with the deepest respect, and declared to him that a 
long time ago he had concealed a piece of the Holy Cross, 
in order to preserve it until Palestine should be rescued from 
the Infidels. He stated that Saladin had often pressed him 
with the most searching inquiries concerning it, but he had 
faithfully guarded the secret, and to the King of England 
he now committed the precious relic, for the adoration of 
those brave men who had so valiantly fought in defence of 
the Christian faith. Reverently wrapping it in a cloth of 

gold, Richard conveyed it to the camp, and the following 

17 



258 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

day the whole army were permitted to press then- lips upon 
the sacred wood. 

The troops had then orders to retire towards Jaffa, but 
civil rancor and fierce dissensions prevailed to such an ex- 
tent among the forces, that but little discipline or order 
could be preserved. When they arrived before the place, 
they found it closely besieged by the Saracens, and on the 
point of surrender. The conflict which ensued was the 
most hotly contested of any that occurred during the Third 
Crusade. Richard performed prodigies of valor. His bat- 
tle-axe gleamed everywhere in the van of the fight, opening 
for his followers bloody paths through the centre of the 
Turkish divisions. The gallant Fanuelle, plowing her way 
through the serried ranks, bore him proudly on, while the 
arrows and javelins of the Saracens, rattled idly upon his 
iron vest, till at length a fallen foe, pierced with a spear 
the breast of his favorite, and amid the exulting yells of 
the barbarians, horse and rider fell to the ground. In- 
stantly starting to his feet, he drew his sword, and con- 
tinued the combat undaunted as before. The generous 
Saphadin, who from a distance had watched the prowess 
of the valiant European, desj^atched a groom to his rescue 
with a splendid Arabian barb. Remounting, Richard con- 
tinued the contest till the going down of the sun, when 
darkness separated the combatants. Jaffa was rescued, 
and the joy of this signal victory in some measure compen- 
sated the English for their bitter disaj^ointment in aban- 
doning Jerusalem. On reviewing his troops, Richard saw 
from their diminished numbers the utter hopelessness of 
attempting any further conquest, and this sad conviction 
strengthened the motives which determined his return to 
Europe. His late success gave him the vantage-ground in 
soliciting an honorable jDcace with the Soldan, who, now 
that Richard was preparing to depart, was better able to 
estimate candidly, and appreciate fairly the knightly qual- 
ities and heroic courage that had distinguished his career 
in the Holy Land. 

The Emperor Saladin and Richard Plantagenet, each 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 259 

with a brilliant train of attendants, met near Monnt Tabor, 
to confer upon the momentous interests that clustered 
round the Holy City, and to arrange a protracted truce. 
The preliminaries occupied some days. The Saracens in- 
sisted upon the destruction of the fort of Ascalon, the 
Christians negotiated for the restoration of Jerusalem. It 
was at last settled, that Joppa and Tyre, and the country 
between them should be ceded to Henry, Count of Cham- 
pagne, that Ascalon should be dismantled, and that the 
Christians should have free access to the Holy Sepulchre 
without molestation or tribute. The presence of Mestoc 
and Saphadin contributed not a little to the harmonious 
adjustment of these intricate affairs. The treaty was to 
remain in force three years, three months, three weeks, 
three days, and three hours, a number of mysterious sanc- 
tity with the people of the East, and a space which 
Richard thought sufficient for him to compose the factions 
in England, and retui'n to complete the conquest of Pales- 
tine. 

Since her expedition to Jaffa, Elsiebede had remained in 
care of her uncle ; and Richard was now informed that Sa- 
phadin, disappointed in his suit with the lady Joanna, had 
transferred his affections to the bewitching Gyptianos. The 
crosses which Coeur de Lion had borne in the crusade had 
somewhat moderated the imperiousness of his temper, and 
taught him the policy of a seeming acquiescence in inevi- 
table necessity ; and thus though vividly imjDressed with 
an anticipation of Berengaria's frowns, he gracefully ac- 
ceded to the request of Mestoc, and bestowed the Moorish 
girl and her swarthy attendant upon his noble friend. 

The Soldan had arranged the pavilion of the christian 
monarch with the utmost magnificence, at the southern ex- 
tremitj'- of the encampment, while his own sable tent had 
been pitched opposite on the north. Near the close of a 
bright Syrian day, as Richard sat listening to the strains 
with which Blondel beguiled the tedium of the listless 
hours, his chamberlain entered to announce the emperor. 
The illustrious Soldan came without the usual attendants 



260 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES, 

of his rank, and Eicliard snrprised and not ill-pleased by 
this mark of friendly familiarity, received him with the 
frank cordiality characteristic of his nature. The face of 
the noble Kurd wore a seriousness that seemed the result of 
thought rather than the habitual gravity of his nation and 
religion, and Richard, with instinctive delicacy, dismissed 
the minstrel, and waited in silent wonder for the commu- 
nication of his honored guest. But what was his surprise 
when the gifted Saracen, instead of employing the common 
Lingua Franca, addressed him easily and fluently in the 
liquid Proven5al. " The Melech Ric," said he, " wonders 
to hear his mother-tongue in a foreign land, but not strai*- 
ger to thee than to me are my words. Forty and three times 
have the constellations described their circles in the heav- 
ens since my lip assayed this language ; but thy presence 
has been to my heart like the beams of the rising sun that 
causes the statue of Memnon to speak." 

Astonishment prevented reply ; but everj'- feature of 
Coeur de Lion evinced the intensest curiosity. " Know 
then," said Saladin, answering the mute interrogation, 
" that as the warmth of our Eastern clime flushes the grape 
with a deeper hue than the temperate north, so it earlier 
awakens and strengthens the passions in the human breast. 
Hence was it that though but a youth I saw and loved a 
beautiful daughter of Frangistan. Her eyes — God said to 
them, Be — and they were, afi'ecting my heart with the po- 
tency of wine. Her voice — it made me forget the spirits 
that stand about the throne of Allah (blessed be his name), 
and had not the Prophet ordained that she should suddenly 
be torn from me, I might have become a convert to the faith 
of the Nazarene." 

" Would to heaven thou hadst !" ejaculated Richard, 
" for Godfrey of Boulogne could not more worthily flll the 
throne of Jerusalem." 

Without appearing to note the enthusiasm of Richard, 
the Saracen slowly unfastened the scarf that bound his caf- 
tan, and exhibited the embroidered cross of Aquitaine. 

" Thou art a Christian in thy secret heart," said Richard, 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE, 261 

starting, up at the sight and grasping the hand of the Sol- 
dan. " It solves the mystery of thy victories. I knew 
that no imbaptized Infidel could have so prevailed against 
the armies of the Lord." 

" l!s^ay," said the Mussulman, smiling gravely, " think 
not the prince of the thousand tribes worships a symbol as 
do the Franks, though for the memory of her whose slender 
fingers wrought the emblem, I have sometimes spared the 
lives of those whom our laws hold accursed — but there is no 
God but one God, and Mohammed is his Prophet." 

Somewhat abashed Richard sat holding the scarf in his 
hand and murmuring half aloud, " The Proven9al tongue ; 
the cross of Aquitaine ; a daughter of Frangistan." Then 
raising his eyes he said, with a look of painful embarrass- 
ment, " ISToble Saladin, thy generous interest in the Eng- 
lish crusader is sufficiently explained. Destroy not, I pray 
thee, the gratitude of the son of Eleanor by alluding to the 
follies of the mother." 

"ISTay," said Saladin, satisfied that he had correctly in- 
terpreted the hereditary peculiarities, w^hich his observant 
eye had detected in Richard, " the name of the beloved is 
secure from reproach ; but my memory still looks upon her 
as she was, and I would fain teach my imagination to re- 
gard her as she is. Dwells she in the trembling tent of 
age? or has the angel Azrael drawn around her silent 
couch the curtain of perpetual night?" 

" She lives," returns Richard, proudly, " regent of my 
noble realm. Thousands receive benefits from her hands, 
which as thy poet saith, ' are the keys of the suj)plies of 
Providence.' " 

" I am content," replied the Saracen. " For the rest, 
hitherto, I have kept my secret in a house with a lock, 
whose key is lost, and whose door is sealed. So let it be 
henceforth between us. The peace of Allah rest upon Me- 
lech Ric, and may he die among his kilidred." As he arose 
to leave the tent the Voice of the muezzein was heard 
through the camp calling, " To prayer, to prayer." The 
noble chief paused upon the threshold, and turning his face 



262 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

toward Mecca, bowed his forehead to the dust, and rever- 
ently repeated the Mohammedan blessing. 

Early on the subsec[iient day, the Latins prepared for 
departure, and there remained only the last formalities of 
ratifying the treat3\ As the two monarchs, disdaining the 
common obligation of an oath, advanced to the centre of 
that fair and flowery meadow, and extended their hands 
above the parchment, they seemed the representatives of 
Mohammedan superstition and Christian enthusiasm, and a 
prophetic eye might have read in the appearance of these 
leaders of the belligerent powers, that for a century had 
caused the earth to tremble beneath their tread, the char- 
acter and the destiny of the nations which they repre- 
sented. The form and countenance of the Saracen, erect 
and calm, but lithe and wary, with a certain air of majesty 
and repose, indicated a consciousness of the decay of 
youthful vigor, but a sense of compensation however in 
the resources of wisdom and skill laid up in the storehouse 
of experience, for the necessities of declining years. In 
the compact and muscular frame, and sparkling eyes of 
Richard, were expressed that reckless spirit of pursuit, 
that ardor of passion, enthusiasm of love, romance, and 
religion, that steady self-reliance, born of conscious strength 
and indomitable will, which characterized the growing 
nations of Europe, and finally gave the dominion of the 
world to the Anglo-Saxon race. Grasping each other's 
hands, these two exponents of Oriental tactics and Euro- 
pean chivalry mutually pledged their faith to the treaty, 
and parted less like deadly foes, than faithful friends, who 
hoped to meet again. 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 263 



CHAPTER XI. 

" He that can eudure 
To follow with allegiance a fallen lord, 
Doth conquer him that did his master conquer, 
And earns a place i' the story." 

On his arrival at Acre, Richard learned that the friends 
of Conrad accused him as the instigator of the assassi- 
nation, and that reports had been conveyed to Europe im- 
peaching his honor as a king, and his fame as a warrior. 
Deeming it unsafe to attempt the passage in the Trenc-the- 
mere, he committed Berengaria and her ladies again to the 
care of Stephen de Turnham and his faithful Blondel, and 
saw them safely embarked for Navarre, Sept. 29, 1192. 
The following month, having provided for the safe return 
of the soldiers and pilgrims who had accompanied him on 
his fruitless expedition, he himself last of all, in the dis- 
guise of a Templar, sailed from the port of Acre. As the 
rocky heights of Lebanon and the lofty summit of Carmel 
faded from his view, he stretched his hands towards the 
receding shores, and while tears streamed from his eyes, 
prayed aloud, " Oh Holy Land, I commend thee to God ; 
and, if his heavenly grace shall grant me so long to live, 
I trust that I shall return according to his good pleasure, 
and set thee free from all thine enemies." 

The voyage proved more disastrous than was common, 
even in those days of unpractised navigation. Many of 
the English vessels were wrecked upon the shores of Africa, 
others fortunately reached friendly ports whence the war- 
riors returned by land to Britain. Six weeks after his de- 
parture from Acre, the vessel of Richard encountered a 
pirate ship off the coast of Barbary. Learning from the 
commander that his misfortunes had become known, and 
that the French lords were prepared to seize him as soon as 
he should land in Marseilles, he determined, as his ship 



264 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

was already nnseawortbj, to pass up the Adriatic, and make 
his way through Germany. Landing not far from Venice 
with six companions, he pursued his route to the north. 
But news of the dispersion of his fleet had ah-eady reached 
Germany, and orders had been issued, that all travellers 
should be closely interrogated. His companions were 
arrested ; but the monarch escaped, attended only by a 
boy who understood the language of the country, and con- 
ducted him to houses of entertainment, unfrequented by 
persons of rank. Thus resting b}'' day and travelling by 
night, they reached the borders of the Danube. Secure in 
his disguise, the king began to enjoy the frank hilarity and 
hearty cheer of the inn kitchen, and with a good nature 
appropriate to his assumed character, assisted in the prep- 
arations for the evening repast. A loitering spy observ- 
ing a costly jewel upon the finger of the pretended friar, at 
once reported the suspicious circumstance to the governor. 
A company of soldiers were immediately despatched to 
arrest him, the leader of which was an Austrian who had 
served under him in Palestine. The house was searched, 
and the landlord subjected to a close scrutiny concerning 
harboring a man of the description of the hunted monarch. 
" There be no such person here," indignantly exclaimed 
the boor, " unless it be the Templar in the kitchen roast- 
ing fowls." The oflScers immediately followed the hint, 
and surprised the fictitious palmer with the sj^it in his hand. 
The Austrian cavalier recognized, at once, the herculean 
frame and ruddy countenance of the king. " It is he. 
Seize him," cried he to his minions. Notwithstanding a 
valiant resistance, Richard was overborne by numbers and 
conveyed to the castle of Tenebreuse, where for several 
months all trace of him was lost. 

Meanwhile the vessel containing the princesses arrived 
safely at Naples, whence they journeyed to Rome. The 
enmity of Philij^, and vague reports concerning the ship- 
wreck of her husband, so terrified Berengaria that she re- 
mained here under the protection of the pope till the ensu- 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 265 

ing spring. During the carnival, tlie services of the royal 
ladies were in requisition for a brilliant masquerade. The 
affair, involving an uncommon call for bijouterie, the queen 
found no little amusement in searching the shops of the 
jewellers in pursuit of appropriate decorations. On one of 
these excursions her attention was attracted by the appear- 
ance of a boy clad in mean apparel who was offering a 
valuable jewel for sale. The eagerness and suspicion with 
which the shopman regarded it excited her curiosity, and 
stepping forward she recognized the signet ring of Richard. 
Plastily purchasing the precious talisman she ordered the 
youth to follow her, intending to question him further con- 
cerning his master ; but when she reached her apartments, 
he had disappeared. She sent messengers in every direc- 
tion, and caused the most searching inquiries to be made, 
but all in vain ; lie was nowhere to be found. Her anxiety 
for the fate of Richard, found vent in fruitless exertions 
and floods of tears. The mysterious circumstances reawa- 
kened all her superstitious apprehensions. She was con- 
vinced that the fatal ring which she had so foolishly given 
and so weakly allowed him to retain, had finally accom- 
plished his prediction, " betrayed him to his direst foe, or 
drowned him in the sea." At one moment she bewailed 
him as dead, at the next upbraided her friends for neglect- 
ing to deliver him from the dungeon in which she was posi- 
tive the Duke of Austria had confined him. Blondel, 
whose devotion U) his royal friend equalled her own, set 
off at once imder the character of a wandering minstrel in 
search of his master. 

At length the i)ope, moved by Berengaria's distress, 
l^laced her under the escort of Count Raimond of Toulouse, 
the hero of the tournament, who, with a strong guard, con- 
ducted the queens across the country to N^avarre. The 
valiant Raimond soon found it an easier and pleasanter 
task to soothe the mind of the lovely Joanna, than to listen 
to the unavailing complaints of the despairing Berengaria, 
and so resigned did he become to his grateful duties, that 
before they reached the end of their journey he had become 



266 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

a candidate for the office during life of sympathizer and 
protector. 

In the joy of welcoming her youngest daughter, Queen 
Eleanor forgot her hereditary enmity to her cousin of Tou- 
louse, and Count Raimond received the hand of Joanna 
with the resignation of the contested claim, to that splendid 
fief, which had so long filled the south of France with strife 
and bloodshed. Deprived of the society of the tranquil 
and considerate Joanna, Berengaria was more than ever 
lonely and disconsolate, and the death of her father, San- 
cho the "Wise, not long after, added another weight to the 
sorrow that oppressed her. 

Eleanor's detention of the Princess Alice had drawn 
upon ^Normandy a fierce invasion by Philip Augustus, and 
the noble domain might have fallen a prey to his rapacity 
had not Sancho the Strong, moved by the pleadings of his 
sister, traversed France with a choice band of knights, and 
compelled his grasping sovereign to abandon the siege of 
Rouen. 

Meantime the faithful Blondel traverses many a weary 
league in search of the lion-hearted king. His harp gives 
him ready entrance to the castles of the great and the cot- 
tages of the lowly. "Warriors mingle their rude voices with 
the chorus of his soul-stirring tensons, and light-hearted 
maidens weep pitying tears at the sound of his tender 
plaintes. Stern jailers, like the Furies that guarded the 
lost Eurydice, leave their dismal avocations, and " listen- 
ing crowd the sweet musician's side." The lyre of Orpheus 
draws back the rusty bolts and opens wide the ponderous 
doors, and many a hapless prisoner is charmed with the 
strains of light and love that for years had only visited his 
dreams. 

But Richard is not among the minstrels ; his voice echoes 
not in the chorus of the warriors ; his sad complaint is not 
heard among the wail of the captives. The troubadour 
turns away disappointed from each new trial, but restless 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 267 

aifection jDvoinpts him to repeated endeavors, and ephem- 
eral hopes continually^ lead him on. 

He wanders along the hanks of the Danube, he sits be- 
neath the dark shadow of the Tenebreuse, from whose por- 
tals no ransomed captive has ever yet come forth to the 
free light of dav. He assays his most thrilling strains, 
but the guards, insensible as the granite effigies that frown 
upon him from the lofty turrets, remain unmoved. He 
throws down his lyre in despair, and hot tears gush from 
his eyes. The image of Bei-engaria floats before him, her 
cheek flushed with hope, and her eyes sparkling with love. 
He sees her leaning enchanted from the vessel's side, lis- 
tening to the voice of her royal lover, while the wind with 
fairy fingers sweeps a wild symphony through the straining 
cordage of the gallant Trenc-the-mere. With the recollec- 
tions come the lona:-forgotten emotions of that blissful sea- 
son. Instinctively his hand grasps the harp ; his spirit 
kindles with the inspiration ; a melodious prelude rings 
out upon the still air, and he sings, 

" Your beauty, lady fair, 
None views without delight ; 
But still so cold an air 
No passion cau excite. 
Yet this I patient see, 
While all are shunn'd like me." 

Is it the voice of the warder mingling with his own in 
the concluding strain, or has his rapt fancy taught the 
echoes to mock his impatience with the loved tones of the 
royal troubadour ? lie pauses — 'Tis neither memory nor 
fancy. From the lonely turret and the closely barred case- 
ment pours a liquid strain, and his fond ear drinks again 
the clear tones that answered to his own, when in harmoni- 
ous rivalry each sought the rich reward of Berengaria's 

smile. 

" Wo nymph my heart can Avound, 
If favors she divide. 
And smile ou all around. 
Unwilling to decide : 
I'd rather hatred bear 
Than love with other share." 



268 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

It is the voice of Plantagenet ! ! The song, the time are 
his ! He lives ! He may yet be ransomed. 

A rough hand is laid upon the shoulder of the minstrel, 
and a surly voice bids him, Begone ! Pie departs without 
question or reply. He courts no danger ; for on his safety 
depends the life of his friend. The listless stroll of the 
harper is exchanged for the quick firm pace of one who 
hastes to the accomplishment of a worthy purpose. He 
avoids the populous cities, and tarries not in the smiling 
villages. He reaches the sea-coast — he finds a vessel — 
he lands in England — he obtains audience of the queen 
regent. She who subscribes herself " Eleanora, by the 
iorathoi God Queen of England," makes all Europe ring 
with the infamy of those princes who have combined to 
keep her son in chains. The power of the pope is im- 
plored, the mercy of the holy mother is invoked. The 
Emperor Henry YI. requires the royal prisoner at the 
hands of Leopold. Eichard is brought before the diet at 
Worms, to answer for his crimes. 

He is accused of making an alliance with Tancred, of 
turning the arms of the crusade against the christian King 
of Cyprus, of affronting the Duke of Austria befoi-e Acre, 
of obstructing the progress of the croises by his quarrels 
with the King of France, of assassinating the Marquis Con- 
rad Prince of Tyre, and of concluding a truce with Saladin 
and leaving d erusalem in the hands of the Saracen emperor. 

The noble Plantagenet arises in the majesty of his inno- 
cence and, "as the lion shakes the dew-drops from his 
mane," dispels the false accusations of his enemies. The 
eloquence of truth carries irresistible conviction to the 
hearts of the congregated princes. They exclaim loudly 
against the conduct of the emperor, the pope threatens him 
with excommunication, and the reluctant Henry is com- 
pelled from very shame to consent to the prisoner's release. 
But a heavy fine is required, and the monarch is remanded 
to his captivity till the sum shall be paid. Every vassal 
in England and Normandy is taxed for the ransom of his 
lord. The churches and monasteries melt down their plate, 



BERENGAEIA OF NAVARRE, 269 

the bishops, abbots, and nobles, contribute a portion of 
their rent, the inferior clergy a tenth of their tithes, and 
Eleanor conveys the treasure to Germany, and brings back 
her long lost-son ! 



CHAPTER XII. 

"Do you like letter-reading? K you do, 
I have some twenty dozen very pretty ones : 
Gay, sober, rapturous, solemn, vcri/ tnie, 
And very lying, stupid ones, and witty ones." 

LETTER FROM THE KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN TO RICHARD. 

" To Richard Plantagenet, by the grace of God, King of 
England, your poor and unworthy servants of the Hospital 
of St. John, humbly set forth these things. We remember 
when it pleased the great Richard to depart from Palestine, 
leaving the Holy City still in the hands of the Moslems, 
that he pledged the honor of a knight, to return when the 
troubles of his own kingdom should be composed, and once 
more do battle in the cause of the saints. 

" According to our poor ability we preserved the con- 
ditions of the treaty, and the land had rest from war. The 
mighty sultan, Saladin, then kept his goods in peace. But 
God has called him to the judgment to answer for his 
crimes against the christian nations. His brother Sapha- 
din usurps the throne of Jerusalem, and his sons strive to 
rend the kingdom in pieces, that each may take his share. 

" ]^ow the Scripture saith expressly, ' A house divided 
against itself shall not stand,' and the fulfilment thereof is 
shown in that which they begin to do. A scarcity of food 
exhausts their forces, and it were easy for a christian army, 
while they lie torn with faction and reduced by famine, to 
march through the length and breadth of the land, and 
make the strong places our own. But the forces of the 
military friars are insufficient for the pious work ; therefore 



270 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

we turn our eyes towards Europe, we fix our regards upon the 
islands of the sea, and lift our hands to Heaven and pray 
that the lion-hearted monarch, with his valiant knights, 
would once more ' come up to the help of the Lord against 
the mighty.' May God and his saints incline your heart to 
the divine undertaking, and may the counsels of the Lord 
prevail. Amen. 

"Written from Palestine a.d. 1195." 

ENCYCLICAL LETTER OF CELESTIN III. 

" To the most Potent Sovereigns of Europe, to the princes, 
nobles, and barons, who by the favor of God, hold author- 
ity over the dominions and vassals of our Lord and Saviour 
— to the cardinals, bishops, prelates, and other clergy that 
rule the Church of God, Pope Celestin III. called to be the 
vicar of Christ, and in virtue of his office heir to the Apos- 
tolic See, sendeth greeting. 

" My brethren, it hath been shown to us that Jerusalem, 
the city of the Saviour's life and passion, still lieth in the 
hands of the Moslems, that the Infidels mock the rites of 
our holy religion even in the land where the sacred myste- 
ries were first instituted, and that the Christians of Syria 
cry unto the brethren of the west for aid. Wherefore we 
command you all to spread again the crimson standard of 
the cross, and march against the jDcrsecutors of the faith. 
By the authority of the blessed St. Peter, from whom we 
hold the keys of the kingdom of Heaven, whereby we open 
and no man can shut ; we shut, and no man can open ; we 
ordain that all those who in heart and truth obey this, our 
holy mandate, shall have claim to those indulgences needful 
for the flesh, in this toilsome warfare ; absolution from those 
sins which they have heretofore committed, or shall hereaf- 
ter fall into : — and we set before them an abundance of the 
honors of this life, and in the life to come life everlasting. 

" Given at Rome, under our hand and seal, this tenth 
day after Epiphany, in the Tear of Grace 1196." 



BERENGAHIA OF XAVARRE. 271 



LETTER FROM ELSIEBEDE TO BERENGARIA. 

"Elsiebede to the most honored Queen Berengaria. My 
noble mistress will pardon the wife of Saif Addin if she 
intrude upon her gracious attention the story of the changes 
that have befallen one whom Allah (blessed be his name) 
hath raised from the low estate of a servant, to the dignity 
of sole wife of the monarch of the East. Though the voice 
of love charmed my ear, and made my heart tremble with 
sweet delight, yet tears overflowed my eyes when it was 
told me I should look no more upon the face of her whose 
fostering care had sustained my youth, and brought me to 
the land of my kindred. My beloved lady and her valiant 
lord have dejDarted for their own land, but still I hear their 
names echoed from the base of Carmel, to Damascus the 
garden of delights. The Arab horseman threatens his 
steed with the weight of King Richard's arm, the Saracen 
mother hushes her babe with the fear of the Melech Ric, and 
blesses her daughter with the benison, ' Allah make thee 
fair as Berengaria.' But ' The strength of the mighty and 
the charm of the lovely availeth naught, since death, the 
terminator of delights, waiteth at the threshhold of every 
dwelling.' Scarce could the vessels that bore the croises 
have reached the shores of Frangistan, when Disease, more 
potent than even the sword of the lion-hearted Plantagenet, 
laid its hand upon Saladin the Powerful, the Illustrious, 
and his life was consumed beneath its burning touch. 
Then the black banner that awoke thy terrors at the first 
sight of Palestine, and that so often like the wing of Azrael, 
waved over the fields of the slain, by his last command, 
was rolled in the dust, and the shroud that was to wrap his 
body in the grave, was borne aloft in the sight of his peo- 
ple, while the imams and muezzins cried aloud with an ex- 
ceeding bitter cry, ' Behold all that remains to the mighty 
Saladin, the prince of the thousand tribes, the vizier of 
Egypt, the conqueror of Syria, the Emperor of the East. 
Behold oh man, and jorepare to die !' 



272 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

" Until bis death the virtuous Soldan had faithfully pre- 
served the peace made with the Melech E.ic, and it was 
the wish of his brother, my lord Saif Addin, upon whom 
the emirs and atabeks bestowed the kingdom of Syria, 
still to keep faith and truce with the Christians, but as your 
holy writing saith, ' A man's foes shall be they of his own 
household,' even so hath it happened unto my lord. The 
undutiful sons of Saladin have seized Aleppo, Damascus, 
and Egypt. They have drawn the sword of battle, and 
our land again groaneth under the miseries of war. From 
these things it chanced that certain timid Christians, fear- 
ing again the renewal of all those sufferings, from which 
they had rested during the sj)ace of three years, called again 
on their brethren of Europe for aid. And there came a great 
company of crusading Germans, brutal and blood-thirsty, to 
wrest the territory of Palestine from the hands of the sover- 
eign. When the Latins of Acre saw what manner of men 
they were, they represented to them the virtues and modera- 
tion of the noble Saif Addin, and entreated that the Chris- 
tians of the Holy Land should have space for negotiation and 
treaty, before the commencement of hostilities. But they 
would not hear ; and so the cruel war was again begun. 

" Then my lord girding himself for the conflict, showed 
that the spirit of Saladin survived in his brother. He ad- 
vanced to the north to meet his foes, and a terrible slaugh- 
ter took place in the vale of Sidon. The followers of the 
prophet were slain on every side, and the Latins also were 
greatly discomfited, and took refuge in Tyre. A portion 
of the Germans proceeded to Jaffa ; thither Saif Addin 
pursued them, and after a continued siege, took the city 
and put them all to the sword. On the same night. Count 
Henry of Champagne, wearing the title, but not the crown 
of the King of Jerusalem, was killed by a fall, and the 
Christians being thus left without lord or ruler, concluded 
a peace with the Emperor. Isabella, the widow of Count 
Henry, is again a wife, being taken in marriage by Al- 
meric, brother of Guy de Lusignan. 

" The prophet saith truly, ' Though the storm rage with- 



BERENGARIA OF NAVARRE. 273 

out, there may be peace in the tent,' and I dwell in safety 
within the sacred walls of Jerusalem. Cohr Eddin, my 
first-bom, already assays to bend the bow of his father, and 
his infant brother nestling in my bosom, just lisps the name 
of his warlike sire. Farewell. The blessing of her who was 
ready to perish, rest upon thee and thine, and Allah make 
thee happy as Ayesha, the best beloved wife of the pro- 
phet, on whom be peace. 

" Written from Jerusalem in the year of the Hegyra 576, 
according to the era of the Franks, 1198." 

The Fourth Crusade^ which the French monarch regarded 
with indifference, and which the King of England despised 
as being the enterprise of his German enemies, ended thus 
without advantage or glory to Christendom. The hostilities 
which had been engendered in the Holy Land, continued 
to vex and agitate Europe long after the causes had ceased 
to operate. The Emperor Henry YI. died of poison ad- 
ministered by his wife Constance, and the pope prohibited 
his interment until the hundred and fifty thousand marks 
which he had received for Richard's ransom, should be 
paid over into the treasury of the Holy See. 

Insignificant wars exciting the baser passions of human 
nature and developing few of its nobler qualities, occupied 
the remaining years of the two great rivals, Richard Plan- 
tagenet and Philip Augustus. The Princess Alice was at 
last surrendered to her brother, and at the mature age of 
thirty-five, with a tarnished reputation and a splendid 
dower, was given in marriage to the Count of Aumerle. 
Richard spent scarce four months of his reign in England, 
and Berengaria never visited the island. They resided 
upon his ducal estates in Normandy, or passed their time 
in Anjou and Aquitaine. It was at the siege of the castle 
of Chaluz, in the latter province, that Richard met his 
death. A peasant plowing in the field, pretended that he 
had discovered a wondrous cave, in which were concealed 
golden statues, and vases of precious stones, of unrivalled 
beauty and value. "The lively imagination of the king, 
heated bv the splendid fictions of Arabian romance," led 



274 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

him at once to credit the report, and determined him upon 
securing the enchanted treasure. He immediately sum- 
moned the baron to give up to him as feudal lord, a share 
of the rich prize. The Castellan declared that nothing had 
been found but a pot of Roman coins which were at his 
service. The impetuous monarch could not be satisfied 
with this explanation of the affair, and immediately com- 
menced a siege. He was pierced by an arrow from the 
walls, and the wound though not mortal was so inflamed 
by the unskilfulness of the physician, and the king's im- 
patience under treatment, as to cause his death. Queen 
Eleanora was at this time in England ; but Berengaria at- 
tended him in his last moments, and forgetting the years 
of neglect, and the ebullitions of ill temper that had poison- 
ed her domestic happiness, watched and wept over him 
with the tenderest care. 

Scarcely had he breathed his last, when Joanna, Count- 
ess of Toulouse, arrived in Aquitaine. She had come to 
entreat the assistance of the monarch against the haughty 
barons who had taken up arms against her husband. But 
when she looked upon the kingly form of her beloved bro- 
ther stretched in the stillness of death ; when she saw that 
the dull, cold eye kindled not as of yore at the recitative 
of her wrongs ; and when she lifted the powerless hand 
ever ready for her defence, her long-tried courage gave 
way and she sank fainting by his side. The weight of this 
new grief, added to her former afflictions, pressed upon her 
enfeebled frame, and on the third day she expired, entreat- 
ing Berengaria to bury her with her brother Richard. The 
sorrowing queen conveyed the rojsl remains of her hus- 
band and sister for interment to the stately abbey of Fon- 
tevraud, and laid them in the tomb of their father Henry 
n., and within a few short weeks after paid the last tribute 
of affection to her sweet sister Blanche, wife of Thibaut, 
Count of Champagne. 

The world was now a desert to Berengaria. She retired 
to her dower estate of Orleans, where she founded the no- 
ble abbey of L'Espan, and passed the remainder of her 
life in acts of charity and bencliceiice. 



ISABELLA. 



CHAPTER 



"Th« kdy 

Oh TVby did she ilr 
She'B going to le&T^ 

It is a marvel to tho; 
ophy of navr '- ■ *' * 
ai oppOvSite ' 

sanu; iiice^,e ■ 



little occupied a\ ^ 

beauty that counted warr t3 could 

uellbe, "■ ^" ' '"dor 

^0 irido' ' ^-t" 



the iirst 



L'ride dv 



Count Hugh as a distinguished peer of France, had been 
summoned to form one of the splendid cortege which Philip 



CHAPTER I. 

"The lady I love ■will soon be a bride, 
With a diadem on her brow, 
Oh why did she flatter my boyish pride. 
She's going to leave me now." 

It is a marvel to those unacquainted with the philos- 
ophy of navigation, that ships may sail with equal speed 
in opposite directions, under the impelling force of the 
same breeze : and it is often an equal paradox with casual 
observers of mental phenomena, that individuals may con- 
tribute as really to the success of an enterj)ri9e by the law 
of repulsion as by the more obvious exercise of voluntary 
influence. Thus Isabella of Angoul^me, who was perhaps as 
little occupied with plans military or religious, as any 
beauty that counted warriors among her conquests could 
well be, as effectually impelled a noble knight and leader 
to undertake the Holy War, as did Adela, Countess of 
Blois, whose whole heart was in the work. 

Isabella was the only child and heiress of the Count of 
Angoul^me. Her mother was of the family of Courteney, 
the first lords of Edessa. In very early youth Isabella had 
been betrothed to Hugh X. de Lusignan, the Marcher or 
guardian of the northern border of Aquitaine. The little 
bride dwelt at the castle of her lord, flattered and caressed 
by every vassal who hoped to win the favor of his master, 
while the gallant Hugh, surnamed le Brun, watched over 
her interests, and directed her education with the care of a 
man anticipating full fruition in the ripened charms and 
unrivalled attractions of one who looked upon him as her 
future husband. 

Count Hugh as a distinguished peer of France, had been 
summoned to form one of the splendid cortege which Philip 



278 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

Augustus despatched into Spain, to bring home the fair 
Blanche of Castile, the bride of his sou Prince Louis. 
During his absence the parents of Isabella sent messengers 
to the castle of Valence, to request their daughter's pres- 
ence on the occasion of a high festival in Angoul^me. 
The beautiful fiancee of Count Hugh was required to recog- 
nize King John of England, as the sovereign of Aquitaine, 
and feudal lord of the province of Angoumois. 

Dressed in a simple robe of white, with her hair parted 
cL la merge upon the brow, and confined only by the golden 
coronet designating her rank, sbe advanced with a timid 
step through the assembly, and kneeling at the feet of the 
king, jjlaced her tiny hands in his, while with a trembling 
voice she jDronounced the oath of homage. The first peep 
which the fair child gained of the great world in this bril- 
liant assembly, where she was made to act so conspicuous 
a part, intoxicated her youthful imagination ; and the ef- 
fect of he^' artless simj)licity on the heart of the dissolute 
monarch, already sated with the adulation of court beau- 
ties, was such as one feels in turning from a crowded vase 
of gaudy exotics, to contemplate the sweetness of the native 
violet. Hence was it that Isabella, though scarcely fifteen, 
entered into all the schemes of her parents, for preventing 
her return to the castle of her betrothed, and without op- 
position, gave her hand to a man who had been for ten 
years engaged in an inefiectual struggle against the canons 
of the church, for the possession of his beautiful cousin, 
Avisa, whom he had married on the day of Richard's corona- 
tion. Now smitten with the charms of Isabella, John sub- 
mitted at once to his spiritual fathers, and the archbishop 
of Bordeaux having convoked a synod to consider the mat- 
ter with the assent of the bishops of Poitou, declared that 
no impediment existed to their marriage. The nuptials 
were, therefore, celebrated at Bordeaux, in August, 1200. 

Enraged at the loss of his bride, on his return from 
Castile, the valiant Count Hugh challenged the royal felon 
to mortal combat ; but the worthless king despising the re- 
sentment of the outraged lover, sailed with Isabella in 



ISABELLA. 279 

triumph to England, where they passed the winter in a con- 
tinual round of feasting and voluptuousness. Thwarted in 
the usual method of redress, Count Hugh had recourse to 
the pope, the acknowledged lord of both potentate and 
peer. Innocent III. at once fulminated his thunders against 
the lawless prince ; but as the lands, if not the person of 
the heiress of Aquitaine, were the property of King John 
as her lord paramount, not even the Church could unbind 
tHe mystic links of feudal tenure that barred the rights of 
Count Lusignan. 

Disappointed in his hopes of vengeance in this quarter, 
the count became suddenly impressed with the right of 
young Arthur of Bretagne, to the throne of England, and 
being joined by the men of Anjou and Maine, he suddenly 
laid siege to the castle of Mirabel, where Queen Eleanor, 
then entering her eightieth year, had taken up her summer 
residence. The son of Geoffrey entered readily into the 
plot, for he had little cause to love the grandmother, who 
had advocated the setting aside his claims in favor of those 
of his uncle ; and it was the intention of Count Hugh to 
capture the aged queen, and exchange her for his lost 
spouse. 

In an age when decent people were expected to break 
their fast at the early hour of five, King John was sur- 
prised at his midday breakfast by a messenger, summoning 
him to his mother's rescue. Rising hastily in terrible 
wrath, and swearing a horrid oath, he overset the table 
with his foot, and leaving his bride to console herself as 
she could, set off immediately for Aquitaine. Arrived be- 
fore the castle of Mirabel, he gave fierce battle to his 
enemies. The contest was very brief, and victory for once 
alighted upon the banners of John. The unfortunate Count 
Hugh, and the still more unfortunate Arthur, with twenty- 
four barons of Poitou were taken prisoners, and chained 
hand and foot, were placed in tumbril carts and drawn 
after the Conqueror wherever he went. The barons, by the 
orders of King John, were starved to death in the dungeons 
of Ci-rfe castle. The fate of the hapless Arthur was never 



280 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

clearly known. Many circumstances make it probable 
that he died by the hand of his uncle ; and the twelve 
peers of France convened to inquire into his fate, branded 
John as a murderer, and declared the fief of Normandy a 
forfeit to the crown. Thus was this important province re- 
stored to the dominion of France, after having been in the 
possession of the descendants of Rollo nearly three cen- 
turies. 

The only male heir now remaining to the House of Plan- 
tagenet, was the recreant John ; and Queen Eleanor look- 
ing forward with fearful foreboding to the destruction of 
her race, sought an asylum in the convent of Fontevraud, 
where she died the following year. 

The unhappy lover of Isabella dragged on a weary 
existence in the donjon of Bristol castle, and the heart of 
the queen, already wounded by the cruelty of John, and 
touched with pity for the sufferings of Lusignan, began to 
recount in the ear of her imagination the tender devotion 
of her first love, and to contrast her miserable, though 
splendid destiny with the peace and happiness she enjoyed 
in the castle of Yalence. 

The controlling spirit of the thirteenth century was In- 
nocent III. " Since Gregory the Seventh's time the pope 
had claimed the empire of the world, and taken upon him- 
self the responsibility of its future state. Raised to a tow- 
ering height, he but saw the more clearly the perils by 
which he M'as environed. He occupied the spire of the 
prodigious edifice of Christianity in the middle age, that 
cathedral of human kind, and sat soaring in the clouds on 
the apex of the cross, as when from the spire of Strasburg 
the view takes in forty towns and villages on the banks of 
the Rhine." From this eminence Pope Innocent surveyed 
the politics of Europe, and put forth his mandates to bring 
the power and wealth of the nations into the treasury of 
the church. 'No measures had ever been adopted which 
combined so efiectually to move the passions of an ardent 
age, in a direction indicated by papal authority, as the ex- 



ISABEI.LA. -81 

peditions to the Holy Land. Louis and Philip of France 
and Henry of England had taxed their subjects for the 
benefit of the crusade. Pope Linocent went a step farther, 
and gave a new character to the sacred wars by imposing 
a similar tax upon the clergy. The eloquent pontiff de- 
scribed the ruin of Jerusalem, the triumphs of the Mos- 
lems, and the disgrace of Christendom ; and, like his pred- 
ecessors, promised redemption from sins and plenary in- 
dulgence to all who should serve in Palestine. 

An ignorant priest, Fulk of Nenilly, took up the word of 
exhortation, and with less piety than Peter the Hermit and 
greater zeal than St. Bernard, itinerated through the cities 
and villages of France, publishing the command of the 
successor of St. Peter. 

The situation of the principal monarchs was unfavorable 
to the pious undertaking. The sovereignty of Germany 
was disputed by the rival houses of Brunswick and Suabia, 
the memorable factions of the Guelphs and Ghibelines. 
Philip Augustus was engaged in projects to wrest from the 
King of England his transmarine dominions, and John was 
incapable of any project beyond the narrow cil'cle of his 
personal pleasures and preferences. 

Notwithstanding, therefore, the power of the pope and 
the fanaticism of Fulk, the whole matter might have fallen 
through but for the lofty enthusiasm of the descendants of 
Adela Countess of Blois. Li every exj^edition to the Holy 
Land, there had not lacked a representative from the house 
of Champagne; and Thibaut, fourth Count of the name, 
was the first to unfurl the crimson standard in \X\q Fifth 
Crusade. The young Thibaut held a grand tournament at 
Troyes, to which he invited all the neighboring princes 
and knights for a trial in feats of derring-do. The festivi- 
ties of the day were nearly over, and the victors were ex- 
changing congratulations and. commenting upon the well- 
won field, when the intrepid Fulk appeared in the lists 
and challenged the warriors to enforce an appeal to arms 
in the cause of Christendom. Geoffrey Yillehardouin, the 
marechal of Champagne, who held the post of honor as 



282 HEROINES OF THIC CRUSADES. 

judge of the combat, iinmediatelj gave place to the holy 
man, and the unbonneted chieftains drew around and 
with respectful regard listened while the subtle priest, 
from the temporary throne, descanted upon the sufferings 
of lost Palestina. 

Encoui'aged by the example of his ancestors, animated 
by the distinction acquired by his elder brother as King of 
Jerusalem, fired with indignation against the Infidel that 
claimed that brother's cruwn, and stimulated by a holy am- 
bition to inscribe his own name upon the rolls of honored 
pilgrimage, the noble Thibaut .came forward, and drawing 
his sword, laid it at the feet of the priest, who blessed and 
consecrated both it and him to the cause of God. His 
cousin Louis Count of Blois and Chartres, immediately ad- 
vanced to his side and made a similar dedication. Then 
followed his brother-in-law, Baldwin Count of Flanders, 
Matthew de Montmorenci, Simon de Montfort, Geoffi-ey 
Villehardouin, and a host of others, till the whole assem- 
bly becoming infected with the spirit of enthusiasm, sprang 
to their feet, and drawing their swords, held them up in the 
sight of he^^en, and with unanimous voice vowed to engage 
in the Holy War. This vow was subsequently repeated in 
the churches, ratified in tournaments, and debated in pub- 
lic assemblies till, among the two thousand and two hun- 
dred knights that owed homage to the peerage of Cham- 
pagne, scarce a man could be found willing to forfeit his 
share in the glorious enterprise by remaining at home. 

As Sancho the Strong had died without children, JSTa- 
varre acknowledged Thibaut, the husband of Blanche, as 
king ; and bands of hardy Gascons from both sides of the 
Pyrenees flocked to his banners. The feudatories of the 
other pilgrim warriors, animated by this glorious examjile, 
joined the standards of their respective leaders, and crowds 
of prelates and barons waited but the final arrangements 
for departure. The perils of the land route to Jerusalem 
had. been often tried. They were such as to intimidate the 
bravest, and check the impetuosity of the most ardent. 

At the extremity of the Adriatic sea, the Venetians had 



ISABELLA. 283 

found a shelter, during the dark and stormy interval that 
succeeded the downfall of the Roman Empire. There nest- 
ling in the sedgy banks of the islands that clustered around 
the Rialto, Commerce, through a long period of incuba- 
tion, had nourished her venturesome brood, and now the 
white wings of her full-fledged progeny, like the albatross, 
skimmed the surface of the seas and found ready entrance 
to every harbor on the coast of the Mediterranean. 

The Venetian republic had owed a nominal allegiance to 
the Greek empire, but entering the field as a rival to the 
Genoese and Pisans for the carrying-trade of Europe at the 
beginning of the crusades, she had displayed from her 
towering masts the banner of the cross, while she cultivated 
a friendly intercourse with the Infidels of every clime. To 
this avaricious but neutral power the sacred militia deter- 
mined to apply for a passage to the Holy Land, and six 
deputies, at the head of whom was Yillehardouin, were 
despatched to the island city to settle the terms of trans- 
portation. 

The ambassadors w^ere received with distinction, and a 
general assembly was convened to listen to their proposals. 
The stately chapel and place of St. Mark was crowded with 
citizens. The doge and the grand council of ten sat in 
solemn dignity while the marechalof Champagne unfolded 
thus the purposes of the embassy. 

" Illustrious Venetians : the most noble and powerful 
barons of France have sent us to you to entreat you in the 
name of God to have compassion on Jerusalem which 
groans under the tyranny of the Turks, and to aid us on 
this occasion in revenging the injury which has been done 
to your Lord and Saviour. The peers of France have turn- 
ed their eyes to you as the greatest maritime power in 
Europe. They have commanded us to throw ourselves at 
your feet, and never to change that supplicatory posture till 
you have promised to aid them in recovering the Holy 
Land." The eloquence of their words -and tears touched 
the hearts of the people. Cries of " We grant your re- 
quest," sounded through the hall. The honored Doge Dan- 



284 HKKOINES OF THE CKUSADKS, 

dolo, though more than ninety years of age and nearly 
blind, consecrated what might remain to him of life to the 
pious work, and multitudes imitated his self-devotion. 
The treaty was concluded, transcribed on parchment, attest- 
ed with oaths and seals, and despatched to Rome for the 
approbation of the pope. Villehardouin repaired to France 
with the news of the success of his embassy. The gallant 
Thibaut sprang from his bed of sickness, called for his war- 
horse, summoned his vassals, and declared his intention to 
set off immediately upon the pilgrimage. The exertion 
was too great for his feeble frame ; he sank fainting in the 
arms of his attendants, and expired in the act of distribut- 
ing among his feudatories the money he had designed for 
the Holy War. A new leader was then to be chosen, and 
the lot finally fell upon Boniface of Montserrat, younger 
brother of the celebrated Conrad, Marquis of Tyre. 



CHAPTER 11. 

" I'll laugh and I'll sing though my heart may bleed, 
And join in the festive train, 
And if I survive it I'll mount ray steed 
And off to the wars again." 

In the spring of the year 1202, the crusaders being join- 
ed by numbers from Italy and Germany, arrived at Venice. 
" On the Sunday before they were ready for embarkation, a 
great multitude assembled in the place of St. Mark. It 
was a high festival, and there were present the people of 
the land, and most of the barons and pilgrims. Before 
high mass, began, the Doge of Yenice, who was named 
Henry Dandolo, mounted the pulpit, and spoke to the peo- 
ple, and said to them, ' Signors, there have joined them- 
selves to you the best nation in the world, and for the 
greatest business that ever men undertook ; and I am an 
old man and a feeble and should be thinking of rest, and 



ISABELLA. 285 

am frail and suffering of budj. But I see that no one can 
order and marshal yon like I who am jour lord. If you 
choose to grant to me to take the sign of the cross, that I 
may guard you and instruct you, and that ray son may re- 
main in my place to guard the land, I will go live or die 
with you and the pilgrims.' And when they heard him 
they all cried out with one voice, ' We beg you in God's 
name to grant it, and to do it, and to come with us.' Then 
great pity took j)ossession of the men of the land, and of the 
pilgrims, and they shed many tears to think that this val- 
iant man had such great cause to remain, for he was an old 
man and had beautiful eyes in his head, but saw not with 
them, having lost his sight through a wound on the crown ; 
exceeding great of heart was he. So he descended from 
the pulpit and walked straight to the altar, and threw him- 
self upon his knees, pitifully weeping ; and they sewed the 
cross on a large cape of cotton, because he wished the peo- 
ple to see it. And the Venetians began to take the cross 
in large numbers and in great plenty on that day, until 
which very few had taken the cross. Our pilgrims were 
moved with exceeding joy even to overflowing as regarded 
this new crusader, on account of the sense and the prowess 
that were his. Thus the doge took the cross as you have 
heard." But by a singular circumstance the expedition 
was diverted from its original design. Isaac Angelus, the 
vicious and tyrannical Emperor of Constantinople, had been 
deposed by his subjects, deprived of his eyesight, and cast 
into prison. His brother Alexius was invested with the 
purple, and rejecting the name of Angelus, assumed the 
royal appellation of the Comnenian race. Young Alexius, 
the son of Isaac, was at this time twelve years of age. Es- 
caping from the guards of his uncle in the disguise of a 
common sailor, he found a refuge in the island of Sicily. 
Thence he set off for Germany, having accepted an invita- 
tion to reside with his sister Irene, wife of Philip of Suabia. 
Passing through Italy, he found the flower of western chiv- 
alry assembled at Venice ready for the crusade, and it 
immediately occurred to his young and ardent mind that 



286 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

their invincible swords might be employed in his father's 
restoration. As he derived his birth in the female line 
both from the house of Aquitaine and the royal race of 
Hugh Capet, he easily interested the sympathy of the 
Franks, and as the Venetians had a long arrear of debt and 
injury to liquidate with the Byzantine court, they listened 
eagerly to the story of his wrongs, and decided to share the 
honor of restoring the exiled monarch. The place of their 
destination being thus changed, the crusaders wdth joyful 
haste embarked. 

" A similar armament, for ages, had not I'ode the Adri- 
atic : it was composed of one hundred and twenty flat-bot- 
tomed vessels, or palcuiders^ for the horses ; two hundred 
and forty transports filled with men and arms ; seventy 
store-ships laden with provisions ; and fifty stout galleys, 
well prepared for the encounter of an enemy. "While the 
wind was favorable, the sky serene, and the water smooth, 
every eye was fixed with wonder and delight on the scene 
of military and naval pomp which overspread the sea. 
The shields of the knights and squires, at once an ornament 
and a defence, were arranged on either side of the ships ; 
the banners of the nations and families were displayed 
from the stern ; our modern artillery was supplied by three 
hundred engines for casting stones and darts : the fatigues 
of the way were cheered with the sounds of music ; and 
the spirits of tlie adventurers were raised by the mutual 
assurance, that forty thousand Christian lieroes were equal 
to the conquest of the world." As they penetrated through 
the Hellespont, the magnitude of their navy was compressed 
in a narrow channel, and the face of the waters was dark- 
ened with innumerable sails. They again expanded in the 
basin of the Propontis, and traversed that placid sea, till 
they approached the European shore, at the abbey of St. 
Stephen, three leagues to the west of Constantinople. As 
they passed along, they gazed with admiration on the cap- 
ital of the East, or, as it should seem, of the earth ; rising 
from her seven hills, and towering over the continents of 
Europe and Asia. The swelling domes and lofty spires of 



ISABELLA. 287 

live liuudred })nlaces and churches were gilded by the sun, 
and reflected in the waters; the walls were crowded Avith 
soldiers and spectators, whose numbers they beheld, of 
whose temper they were ignorant ; and each heart was 
chilled by the reflection, that, since the beginning of the 
world, such an enterprise had never been undertaken by 
such a handful of warriors. But the momentary apprehen- 
sion was dispelled by hope and valoi- ; and "Every man," 
says the Marechal of Champagne, "glanced his eye on the 
sword or lance v.diich he must speedily use in the glorious 
conflict." The Latins cast anchor before Chalcedon ; the 
mariners oidy were left in the vessels : the soldiers, horses, 
and arms were safely landed ; and, in the luxury of an impe- 
rial palace, the barons tasted the first fruits of their success. 
From his dream of power Alexius was awakened by the 
rapid advance of the Latins ; and between vain presump- 
tion and absolute despondency no eflfectual measures for 
defence were instituted. At length the strangers w^ere 
waited upon by a splendid embassy. The envoys were in- 
structed to say that the sovereign of the Romans, as 
Alexius pompously styled himself, was much surprised at 
sight of this hostile armament. " If these pilgrims were 
sincere in their vow for the deliverance of Jerusalem, his 
voice must applaud, and his treasures should assist, their 
pious design ; but should they dare to invade the sanctuar}'- 
of empire, their numbers, were they ten times more con- 
siderable, should not protect them from his just resentment." 
The answer of the doge and barons was simple and mag- 
nanimous. "In the cause of honor and justice," they 
said, " we despise the usurper of Greece, his threats and 
his offers. Our friendship and Ids allegiance are due to the 
lawful heir, to the young prince, who is seated among us, 
and his father, the Emperor Isaac, who has been deprived 
of his sceptre, his freedom, and his eyes, by the crime of 
an ungrateful brother. Let that brother confess bis guilt 
and implore forgiveness, and we ourselves will intercede, 
that he may be permitted to live in affluence and security. 
But let him not insult us by a second message ; our reply 



288 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

will be made in arms in the palace of Constantinople." 
Ten dajs after, the crusaders prepared themselves to attack 
the citj. The navy of the Greek Empire consisted of only 
twenty ships. The vessels of the republic sailed without 
opposition, therefore, into the harbor, and the Croises, with 
cheerful zeal commenced the siege of the largest city in the 
world. The Franks divided their army into six battalions : 
Baldwin of Flanders led the vanguard with his bowmen, 
the second, third, fourth' and fifth divisions were command- 
ed by his brother Henry, the Counts of St. Paul, Blois, and 
Montmorenci, and the rearguard of Tuscans, Lombards, 
and Genoese was headed by the Marquis of Montserrat. 
So far from being able to surround the town, they were 
scarcely sufficient to blockade one side ; but before their 
squadrons could couch their lances, the seventy thousand 
Greeks that had prepared for the conflict vanished from 
sight. The Pisans and the Yarangian guard, however, de- 
fended the walls with extraordinary valor, and victory was 
for a long time poised in the scales of doubt. 

Meanwhile, on the side of the harbor the attack was suc- 
cessfully conducted by the Venetians, who employed every 
resource known and practised before the invention of gun- 
powder. The soldiers leapt from the vessels, planted their 
scaling-ladders, and ascended the walls, while the large 
ships slowly advancing, threw out grappling-irons and 
drawbridges, and thus ojjened an airy way from the masts 
to the ramparts. In the midst of the conflict, the venerable 
doge, clad in complete armor, stood aloft on the prow of 
his galley ; the great standard of St. Mark waved above 
his head, while with threats, promises, and exhortations, 
he urged the rowers to force his vessel upon shore. On a 
sudden, by an invisible hand, the banner of the republic 
was fixed upon the walls. Twenty-five towers were stormed 
and taken. The emperor made a vigorous efibrt to recover 
the lost bulwarks, but Dandolo, with remorseless resolution, 
set fire fo the neighboring buildings, and thus secured the 
conquest so dearly won. The discomfited Alexius, seeing 
all was lost, collected what treasure he could carry, and in 



ISABELLA. 289 

tlie silence of the niglit, deserting his wife and people, 
sought refuge in Thrace. In the morning the Latin chiefs 
were surprised hj a summons to attend the levee of Isaac, 
who, rescued from his dungeon, robed in the long-lost pur- 
ple, and seated upon the throne in the palace of the Bla- 
quernel, waited with impatience lo embrace his son and 
reward his generous deliverers. 

Four ambassadors, among whom was Yillehardouin, the 
chronicler of these events, were chosen to wait upon the 
rescued emperor. " The gates were thrown open on their 
approach, the streets on both sides were lined with the bat- 
tle-axes of the Danish and English guard ; the presence- 
chamber glittered with gold and jewels, the false substi- 
tutes of virtue and power ; by the side of the blind I^aac, 
his wife was seated, the sister of the King of Hungary : 
and by her appearance, the noble matrons of Greece were 
drawn from their domestic retirement and mingled with 
the circle of senators and soldiers." The ambassadors with 
courteous respect congratulated the monarch upon his res- 
toration, and delicately presented the stipulations of the 
young Alexius. These were, " the submission of the East- 
ern empire to the pope, the succor of the Holy Land, and a 
present contribution of two hundred thousand marks of 
silver." "These conditions are weighty," was the empe- 
ror's prudent reply : " they are hard to accept, and difficult 
to perform. But no conditions can exceed the measure of 
your services and deserts." 

The ready submission of Isaac and the subjection of the 
Greek church to the Roman pontiff, deeply offended his 
subtle and revengeful subjects, and gave rise to so many 
plots and conspiracies, that the newly-restored emperor 
prayed the crusaders to delay their departure till order 
was re-established. To this they assented, but the odious 
taxes for rewarding their services were collected with dif- 
ficulty, and Isaac resorted to the violent measure of robbing 
the churches of their gold and silver. Occasions of dissen- 
sion ripened into causes of hatred. A devastating fire was 
attributed to the Latins, and in consequence desultory en- 

19 



290 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

counters took place, which resulted in open hostility. The 
feeble emperor died, it is said, of fear ; his cousin, a bold, 
unscrupulous villain, assumed the imperial buskins, and 
seizing the young Alexius, put him to death. 

The crusaders at once determined to make war upon the 
usurper. Constantinople, the empress of the East, the city 
that for nine centuries had been deemed impregnable to 
mortal arm, was taken by storm. The right of victory, 
untrammelled by promise or treaty, confiscated the public 
and private wealth of the Greeks, and the hand of every 
Frank, according to its size and strength, seized and ap- 
propriated the rich treasures of silks, velvets, furs, gems, 
spices and movables which were scattered like glittering 
baits through all the dwellings of that proud metropolis. 
When the appetite for plunder was satisfied, order was in- 
stituted in the distribution of spoils. Three churches were 
selected for depositories, and the magnitude of the j)rize 
exceeded all experience or expectation. A sum seven 
times greater than the annual revenue of England, fell to 
the lot of the Franks. In the streets the French and Flem- 
ings clothed themselves and their horses in painted robes 
and flowing head-dresses of fine linen. They stripped the 
altars of their ornaments, converted the chalices into drink- 
ing cups, and laded their beasts with wrought silver and 
gilt carvings, which they tore down from the pulpits. In 
the cathedral of St. Sophia, the veil of the sanctuary was 
rent in twain for the sake of its golden fringe, and the al- 
tar, a monument of art and riches, was broken in pieces 
and distributed among the captors. 

Having thus taken Constantinojile and shared its treas- 
ures among themselves, the next step was the regulation 
of their future possessions and the election of an Emperor. 
Twelve deputies were appointed, six to represent the in- 
terest of the Franks and six that of the Venetians ; in the 
name of his colleagues, the bishop of Soissons announced 
to the barons the result of their deliberations in these words. 
" Ye have sworn to obey the prince whom we should choose ; 
by our unanimous suffrage, Baldwin Count of Flanders and 



ISABELLA, 291 

Hainault, is now your sovereign and the Emperor of the 
East." " Agreeably to the Byzantine custom, the barons 
and knights immediately elevated tlieir future lord upon a 
buckler and bore him into the church of St. Sophia. When 
the pomp of magnificence and dignity was prepared, the 
coronation took place. The papal legate threw the im- 
perial purple over Baldwin ; the soldiers joined with the 
clergy in crying aloud, ' He is worthy of reigning ;' and 
the si3lendor of conquest was mocked by the Grecian cere- 
mony, of presenting to the new sovereign a tuft of lighted 
wool and a small vase filled with bones and dust, as em- 
blems of the perishableness of grandeur, and the brevity 
of life." 

The splendid fiefs which the ambitious Adela had map- 
ped out for the heroes of the first crnsade, now fell to the 
lot of her descendants in the division of the Greek Empire. 
One was invested with the duchy of Nice ; one obtained a 
fair establishment on the banks of the Hebrus ; and one, 
served with the fastidious pomp and splendor of oriental 
luxury, shared the throne of Baldwin, the successor of Con- 
stantine the Great. 



CHAPTER III. 

"But I'll hide in my breast every selfish care, 
And flush my pale cheek with wine, 
When smiles await the bridal pair, 
I'll hasten to give them miue." 

While the Eastern Croises were thus engaged in appor- 
tioning among themselves, the rich domains of the Greek 
Empire, Simon de Montfort, who had abandoned the ex- 
pedition, when its destination was changed from Jerusalem 
to Constantinople, was not less actively employed in a do- 
mestic crusade, published by Innocent III., against the 
heretics of the south of France. In the province of Tou- 



292 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

louse, certain sects had arisen variously known as Believers, 
Perfects, and Yaudois, but all rejecting some of the tenets 
of Rome, and from the city of Albi, designated by the 
general name Albigeois. In his misguided zeal, Innocent 
III. despatched three legates to constrain these Albigeois 
to abjure their heresies and return to the bosom of the 
church. He empowered them to employ for this purpose, 
" the sword, water and fire, as these good monks should 
find it necessary to use one or the other, or all three to- 
gether for the greater glory of God." Though the Albi- 
genses, like other Christians, professed the doctrines of 
peace, they were somewhat infected with the warlike spirit 
of the age ; consequently becoming exasperated at the ex- 
ecutions deemed necessary to bring the lambs into the 
fold, they rose upon the missionaries, and stoned one of 
them to death. The pope retaliated by proclaiming the 
usual indulgence to those who should engage in the holy 
war, for exterminating the heretics. Count liaimond YI., 
the husband of Joanna, immediately took up arms in de- 
fence of his subjects, and against him Simon de Montfort 
headed the army of the church. With him came a monk 
of great austerity, afterwards St. Dominic, the founder of 
the Dominican order of friars, who encouraged the soldiers 
in their work of blood. The city of Beziers long held out 
against them. It was finally taken, the inhabitants given 
up to slaughter, and when a difiiculty arose about discrimi- 
nating between the heretics and the catholics, " Slay them 
all," said Dominic, "the Lord will know his own." It is 
estimated that the number that perished was sixty thou- 
sand. The war went on, characterized, as such wars always 
are, by the atrocity of private murder, and wholesale, 
butchery, till de Montfort led his army to the siege of 
Toulouse. Count Kaimond, beset on every side by foes, ap- 
plied to his brother-in-law, the King of England, to the 
King of Arragon, whose sister he had married after the 
death of Joanna, and to Philip Augustus his liege lord. 
The first engaged in domestic broils, and the last involved 
in a contest with the pope, concerning the divorce of Inge- 



ISABELLA. 293 

borge, could render him no assistance, but Don Pedro King 
of Arragou, entered warmly into the contest and fell brave- 
ly fighting in the battle of Muret. 

The count was at last compelled to conclude an ignomi- 
nious peace with the pope ; and thus the forces of the 
church were victorious in the south of France, as they were 
in the Greek Empire. 

To return to Isabella. The troubles with which King 
John had involved himself by the murder of the yotmg 
Duke of Bretagne, seemed destined never to end. All 
Aquitaine had been in a state of revolt since the decease of 
his mother and the captivity of Count Hugh, and his queen 
finally persuaded him to trust to the magnaminity of her 
lover, for the peace of his dominions in France. 

De Lnsignan left England in 1206, and by his discretion 
and. valor, soon restored the revolted provinces to the sway 
of the line of Plantagenet. The intolerance of the king 
next aroused the animosity of the English barons, and to 
prevent a popular outbreak, he demanded their sons as 
hostages, under the plausible pretext of requiring the ser- 
vices of the youthful lords as pages for his queen, and com- 
panions of his infant son, Henry. 

The Lady de Braose, when her children were demanded, 
imprudently replied, " I will not surrender my boys to a 
king who murdered his own nephew." The unfortunate 
words were repeated to the malicious monarch, and meas- 
ures for vengeance immediately instituted. 

The Lord de Braose, with his wife and five innocent 
little ones, were confined in Windsor castle and starved to 
death. 

"While the husband of Isabella was thus alienating from 
himself the affections of his subjects, he had the temerity 
to dare the colossal power of Rome. A dispute arose as in 
the days of his father, concerning the incumbent of the see 
of Canterbury. The pope had commanded the monks to 
choose Cardinal Langton for their primate, without the 
ceremony of a writ from the king. They complied, and 



29-J: HEROINES OF THE CllUSADES, 

John sent one of his knights to expel them from the con- 
vent and take i->ossession of their revenues. 

The affair went on with admonitions from the spiritual 
fathei-, and defiant retorts from the refractory king, till Inno- 
cent III. laid an interdict upon the realm. This terrible man- 
date at once covered the whole nation with the garb and the 
gloom of mourning. The priests with pious reverence 
stripped the altars of their ornaments, collected the crosses 
and relics, took down the images and statues of saints and 
apostles, and laying them upon the ground carefully cover- 
ed them from the eyes of the profane. 

Ko matin chime awoke the pious to their devotions, no 
vesper bell summoned the youths and maidens to unite in 
the evening hymn ; no joyous peal invited the happy throng 
to the nuptial ceremony, no solemn toll gathered the sor- 
rowing multitudes to the burial service. The bridegroom 
took the hand of his bride and whisjjered his vows with 
boding fear, standing in the churchyard, surrounded by the 
silent witnesses, whose very presence was a terror. The 
father relinquished the dead body of his child to unhallow- 
ed hands, that made for it an obscure and unconsecrated 
grave by the wayside ; the tender infant was not presented 
at the font for baptism, but received the holy rite in the pri- 
vacy of the monkish cell, and the dying man partook of the 
last sacrament under circumstances that rendered still more 
terrible the approach of death. 

Men neglected their usual avocations, feeling that the 
curse of God rested upon them ; children relinquished their 
amusements, subdued by the mysterious fear that pervaded 
all ranks of society. 

But the tyrant John and liis thoughtless queen felt no 
sympathy with the afflictions of their people, no reverence 
for the ordinances of religion. They made no concessions, 
they manifested no signs of repentance. Each was en- 
gaged in the pursuit of pleasure, without regard to the 
other's feelings, or the laws of God. If the fickle and 
wounded aftections of Isabella wandered from her lord to 
some noble knight, M'ho compassioiuited her wrongs, her 



ISABELLA. 295 

crime. was made known only by the terrible vengeance 
which her malignant husband inflicted upon her supjiosed 
lover ; nor was she aware that the susjjicions of the king 
had been awakened till retiring to her apartment at night, 
she beheld with horror the dead body of the nobleman, 
suspended above her couch, the bloodshot eyes fixed upon 
her with a ghastly stare, and the pale lips opened as if 
assaying to whisj^er in her ear the secret of the dark trag- 
edy. From this haunted chamber she was not suffered to 
depart for long weary years. But though John thus 
manifested his righteous horror of his wife's dereliction 
from the path of rectitude, he was himself unscrupulous in 
the perpetration of any species of iniquity. Parsimonious 
and cruel to his beautiful queen, he lavished uj)on his own 
person every extravagant indulgence ; without honesty or 
honor. He was a bad son, a bad subject, a bad husband, 
a bad father, and a bad sovereign. The record of his 
thoughts is a disgrace to human nature, the record of his 
deeds, a recapitulation of crimes. 

Finding his interdict of no avail. Innocent resorted to his 
most powerful weapon. He excommunicated John, pro- 
nounced utter destruction upon his body and soul, forbade 
all true Catholics to associate with him, absolved his subjects 
from their oath of allegiance to him, commanded all orders 
of religion to curse him, and exhorted all christian princes 
to assist in dethroning him. 

Philip Augustus found this crusade far more to his taste 
than the one he had before undertaken in the Holy Land, 
and Simon de Montfort having enjoyed a short repose from 
his work of blood in Languedoc, stood ready to enforce the 
authority of the church. To protect his transmarine do- 
minions from these powerful foes, John found it necessary 
to solicit an alliance with his former rival Count Hugh de 
Lusignan, but the perverse bachelor was conciliated only 
on condition that the queen should be liberated from her 
irksome imprisonment, and that her eldest daughter, the 
Princess Joanna, should be affianced to him as a compen- 
sation for the loss of the mother. The necessity of the 



296 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

case did not admit of debate or delay, and tlie little prin- 
cess was forthwith betrothed to her mature lover, and con- 
signed to the castle of Valence ; where she occupied the 
apartments and sported in the pleasance, that had formerly 
delighted the childhood of Isabella. With his heart thus 
reassured. Count Hugh repulsed the army of the French 
king, and kept the Poictevin border in peace. 

Philip Augustus disappointed in this attempt, prepared 
for the invasion of England ; but while his fleet waited in 
the ports of Normandy, the legate Pandulph sought an in- 
terview with John, and terrifying him with the prospect of 
certain ruin brought him to submit unconditionally to the 
pope. The pusillanimous monarch was thus induced to pass 
a charter in which he declared he had for his own sins and 
those of his family, resigned England and Ireland to God, 
to St. Peter, and St. Paul, and to Pope Innocent and his 
successors in the apostolic chair ; agreeing to hold those 
dominions as feudatories of the church of Rome by the an- 
nual payment of a thousand marks. He consented to re- 
ceive Langton for the primate, laid his crown and sceptre 
at the feet of Pandulph, and kneeling down placed his hand 
in those of that prelate, and swore fealty in the same man- 
ner as a vassal did homage to his lord. The legate then 
revoked the sentence of excommunication, placed the crown 
upon the head of John, pocketed the first instalment of the 
tribute money, and returning to France informed Philip 
that England was a jDart of the patrimony of St. Peter, and 
it would be impious in any Christian prince to attack it. 

Isabella was residing with her children at Gloucester, 
when her inconstant husband, smitten with the charms of 
Matilda the fair daughter of Lord Fitz Walter, stormed 
the castle of her father, banished him from the kingdom, 
and bore away the trembling girl to the fortress of London. 
There confining her in one of the lofty turrets of the White 
tower he set himself to win her aflfections ; but the noble 
maiden spurned all his overtures with virtuous indignation. 
When the hoary libertine found that flattery and coercion 



ISABELLA, 297 

were alike vain, his adoration changed to hate, and the hap- 
less lady fell a victim to poison. This crowning act of vil-. 
lainy completed the exasperation of the English nobles, 
and a confederacy was formed to resist farther aggressions 
upon their liberties. Cardinal Langton, in searching the 
records of the monasteries, had found a copy of the charter 
executed by Henry Beauclerk upon his marriage with Ma- 
tilda the Good. 

From this charter the primate drew up the bill of rights, 
which has become world-renowned as the Magna Charta. 
At Kunnymede between Windsor and Staines the mail-clad 
barons met their guilty sovereign, and 

" There in happy hour 
Made the fell tyrant feel his people's power." 

The signing of the great charter of English liberty was 
soon followed by the death of King John, and the diplo- 
matic talents of Isabella were called into exercise to secure 
the vacant throne for her son Henry, then a boy of only 
nine years of age. The diadem of his father having been 
lost in Lincoln washes, and that of Edward the Confessor 
being in London, the little prince was crowned with a gold 
throat collar that she had worn in those happy days while 
the affianced bride of Count Hugh la Marche. Only a 
small part of England at first owned the sway of Prince 
Henry, but the nobles at length rallied around the young 
Plantagenet, and the valor and wisdom of the protector 
Pembroke soon drove the invading French from the island. 
'No share in the government was committed into the hands 
of the dowager queen, and before the first year of her wid- 
owhood had expired she set out for her native city of An- 
gouleme. 

As she passed through the provinces of France her atten- 
tion was attracted by groups of children, habited as pil- 
grims with scrip and staff", gathered about the doors of 
churches, repeating pious ascriptions of praise or tuning 
their infant voices to sacred hymns. Her curiosity was 
strongly excited, and she questioned them concerning the 



298 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

motives that influenced to so strange a proceeding. " Fair 
Solyma lies in ruins," replied the little fanatics, " and it 
may please God who out of the mouths of babes and suck- 
lings hath ordained strength, to redeem it by our feeble 
hands." These scenes occurred daily upon her route. In 
vain the queen employed argument and entreaty, threats 
and promises to induce them to return to their homes. 
They followed in the train of a company of monks who, 
with the diabolical design of profiting by a crime then too 
common, were working upon their superstitious hopes and 
fears to decoy them to the sea-coast, where they might be 
shipped to Egypt and sold as slaves. Thirty thousand mis- 
guided innocents were thus collected from Italy and Ger- 
many, and most of them fell a sacrifice to the mercenary 
motives of those who traded in the bodies and souls of 
men. 

"When Isabella arrived at Angoul^me, the valiant Lusig- 
nan was absent from his territories, fighting under the ban- 
ners of the cross, and her maternal heart was allowed the 
solace of frequent intercourse with Joanna, the little bride 
of her former lover. 



CHAPTER IV. 

"I'll bang my harp on the willow-tree, 
And off to the wars again ; 
My peaceful home has no charms for me, 
The battle-field no pain." 

Convinced by the crusade of the children that the spirit 
which had moved the former expeditions to the Holy Land 
was still active in Europe, Pope Innocent exclaiming, 
" While we sleep these children are awake," determined 
once more to arm the Christian world against the Moslem. 
The commands of the Vatican calling upon men to exter- 
minate the Infidel were hurled upon every part of Europe. 



ISABELLA. 299 

In a circular letter to sovereigns and clergy the pope de- 
clared that the time had at last arrived when the most hap- 
py results might be expected from a confederation of the 
Christian powers. 

Count la Marche was among the first to hear and obey the 
mandate of the spiritual head. With the Duke of E"evers 
he commanded the French croises that in 1215 sailed for 
Egypt, where he was actively engaged in the Holy warfare 
when Isabella visited Yalence. The siege of Damietta was 
can-ied on with the usual atrocities. Tidings of the death 
of Saphadin weakened the forces of the garrison, and 
Camel, younger sou of Elsiebede, lord of the fertile coun- 
try of the Nile, was compelled to seek refuge in Arabia. 
The first success of the crusaders was followed by disaster 
and discord ; and when after a siege of seventeen months 
Damietta was taken, they found in pestilence and famine 
more terrible foes than in the sixty thousand Moslems that 
had perished beneath their swords. 

Queen Isabella was seated in her former apartment in 
the castle of Yalence describing to her daughter the person 
of the young King of England and his noble brother the 
Prince Richard, and painting to the imagination of the 
child the charms of the infant Princess Isabella, when the 
horn of the warder rang out shrill and clear on the evening 
air. The window of the turret commanded the view of the 
drawbridge. From that window where, eighteen years be- 
fore, Isabella had watched with delight for the return of 
her gay knightly lover, she now beheld with palpitating 
heart the advance of a jaded, weary trooj), at whose head 
rode one whose proud crest drooped as though the inspira- 
tion of hope had ceased to animate the warrior-frame, and 
the heart bereft of the blissful fervor of love no longer an- 
ticipated the sweet guerdon of his lady's smile. A tide of 
recollections swept over her spirit ; dizzy and faint she 
sank upon a seat in the embrasure of the window, and 
veiled her agitation in the curtaining drapery. She heard 
his tread upon the stair, no longer the elastic step that she 
had been wont to welcome with the sportive gaiety of a 



300 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

heart free from care ; the door was thrown open, her daugh- 
ter with bounding footstep so like her own in former days, 
flew to meet him as he entered. She saw the childish fin- 
gers unlace the helmet, unbind the gorget, unbelt the sword, 
and lay aside the armor. The form of the warrior was 
slightly bent, there were furrows upon the sunburnt cheek, 
deep lines upon the noble brow, and threads of silver among 
his dark locks. A heavy sigh was the first salutation of 
his little bride. He drew the fair girl to him and pressed 
his lip upon her cheek, but the anxious observer saw that 
the look and the smile were the expression rather of pater- 
nal regard than of lover-like fondness ; they were not such 
as had lighted up his countenance and kindled in his eyes 
when with gleesome alacrity she had rendered him the 
same gentle service. Her agitation subsided, and when 
the little Joanna took the hand of the Count la Marche, and 
led him forward to present him to her mother, she received 
his embarrassed greeting with the stately courtesy of a 
queen and the dignity of a woman. The marvellous beauty 
that won for Isabella the appellation of the " Helen of the 
middle ages" soon eclipsed the infant graces of the prin- 
cess, and reinstated her in the heart once all her own. We 
accordingly find in the records of the year 1220, that " Isa- 
bella, Queen Dowager of England, having before crossed 
the seas, took to her husband her former spouse, the Count 
of Marche, in France, without leave of the king, her son, or 
his council." 

ISTotwithstanding this romantic change in their relations, 
Joanna continued to reside at the castle of Yalence, under 
the care of the gallant count, who remained her steady 
friend and protector. She was of infinite service to her 
parents and her country. The English were greatly in- 
censed at the marriage of Isabella, and the council of the 
regency withheld her jointure as the widow of John, and 
neither the representations nor threats of her valiant hus- 
band could induce them to repair the wrong. A war soon 
after occurred between England and Scotland, and Alex- 
ander II., the chivalric descendant n\' Maude, declared that 



ISABELLA. 301 

he could not trust the strength of a political treaty without 
the bond of a union with the royal family of England. 
King Henry therefore despatched a messenger with an af- 
fectionate letter to his mother, demanding the restoration 
of his sister. Count la Marche refused to resign the guar- 
dianship of his lovely stej)-daughter until the dower of his 
wife should be restored. The young king had then recourse 
to Pope Honorius III., traducing his mother and her hus- 
band in no measured terms, and praying him to lay upon 
them the ban of excommunication. By a process almost 
as tedious as the present "law's delays," the pope investi- 
gated the affair, till Alexander becoming impatient, Henry 
was glad to accommodate the matter by paying up the ar- 
rears of his mother's dower. The little princess was then 
sent to England, and married to Alexander H., at York, 
1221. She was a child of angelic beauty and sweetness, 
and though only eleven years of age, had thus twice stopped 
a cruel war. The English styled her Joan Makepeace. 

The domestic bliss of Count Hugh and Isabella was less 
exquisite than might have been anticipated from the con- 
stancy of his love, and the romantic revival of her attach- 
ment : nor did the birth and education of eight beautiful 
children concentrate their affections or afford sufficient 
scope for their ambitious aspirations. Differences con- 
stantly arose between the Eang of France and her son 
Henry, and it was often the duty of her husband to fight 
in behalf of Louis, his liege-lord, against her former sub- 
jects of Aquitaine. It was her sole study, therefore, to 
render French Poitou independent of the King of France. 
She "was a queen," she said, "and she disdained to be the 
wife of a man who had to kneel before another." Causes 
of mortification on this point were constantly occurring. 
Count la Marche sought to obviate the difficulty by allying 
his family with the blood royal. He offered his eldest 
daughter in marriage to the brother of the French king, 
but the prince refused her, and gave his hand to Jane of 
Toulouse. On this occasion the king made his brother 
Count of Poictiers, and thus it became necessary for Count 



802 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

Hugli and bis haughty wife to fill the role of honor, and do 
homage to the young couple as their suzerains. From this 
time forward the unfortunate count found that the only 
way to secure domestic peace was to make perpetual war 
upon the dominions of his sovereign. As a good soldier 
and a loyal knight who hangs his hopes upon a woman's 
smile, he perseveringly followed the dangerous path till he 
was utterly dispossessed of castle and patrimony, feudatory 
and vassal. There remained then no resource but to cast 
themselves upon the charity of the good king. The repen- 
tant count first despatched his eldest son to the camp of 
Louis, and encouraged by the gracious reception of the youth, 
soon followed with the remainder of his family. The mon- 
arch compassionated their miserable situation, and granted 
to his rebellious subject three castles on the simple con- 
dition of his doing homage for them to Alphonso, Count of 
Poictiers. After this humiliating concession, Count Hugh 
was disposed to dwell in quietness : but the restless spirit 
of Isabella was untamed by disaster. The life of King 
Louis was twice attempted, and the assassins being seized 
and put to the torture, confessed that they had been bribed 
to the inhuman deed by the dowager Queen of England. 
Alarmed for the consequences, she fled for safety to the 
abbey of Fontevraud, where, says a contemporary chroni- 
cler, " She was hid in a secret chamber, and lived at her 
ease, though the Poictevins and French considering her 
as the cause of the disastrous war with their king, called 
her by no other name than Jezebel, instead of her rightful 
appellation of Isabel." IS'otwithstanding the disgrace and 
defeat that Count Hugh had sufiered, no sooner was the 
fair fame of his wife attacked than he once more girded on 
his sword and appealed to arms to prove the falsehood of 
the accusation upon the body of Prince Alphonso. Little 
inclined to the fray, Alphonso declared contemptuously, 
that the Count la Marche was so " treason-spotted" it would 
be disgrace to fight with hina. Young Hugh, the son of 
Isabella, then threw down the gage in defence of his 
mother's reputation, but the cowardly prince again de- 



ISABELLA. 808 

clined, alleging that the infamy of the family rendered the 
young knight unworthy so distinguished an honor. 

The last interview between Hugh de Lusignan, Count la 
Marclie, and Isabella of Angouleme, ex-Queen of England, 
toolc place in the general reception room in the convent of 
Fontevraud. The dishonored noble sought his wife to ac- 
quaint her with the ruin of all their worldly prospects and 
the stain upon their knightly escutcheon. The last tones 
that he heard from those lips that once breathed tenderness 
and love were words of indignant upbraiding and heart- 
broken despair. All his attempts at consolation were re- 
pulsed with cruel scorn. She tore herself violently from 
his last fond embrace, sought again the secret chamber and 
assumed the veil, and for three years sister Felice, most in- 
aptly so named, was distinguished among the nuns by her 
lengthened penances and multiplied prayers. 

The land of his nativity no longer possessed any attrac- 
tions for the bereaved and disaj)pointed count. All the as- 
sociations of his youth became sources of j^ainful reflection, 
and anxious to escape from the scenes where every familiar 
object was but a monument of a buried hope, he deter- 
mined to share the crusade which St. Louis was preparing 
against the Infidel. He fell, covered with wounds and 
glory in one of the eastern battles, fighting beside his old 
antagonist Alphonso Count of Poictiers. 



V 1 L A N TE. 



20 



CHAPTER I. 

'"Twas but for a moment — aud yet iu that time 
She crowded the impressions of many an hour : 
Her eye had a glow, like the sun of her clime, 
Which waked every feeling at once into flower 1" 

The fall of Constantinople had not been without its 
effect upon eastern politics. The christian Prince of Anti- 
och aclmowledgecl the feudal superiority of Baldwin, the 
new EEQiDeror, and Saphadin, the Sultan of Syria, justly 
apprehended that an easy and ready communication being 
thus opened with Europe through the Greek Empire, the 
splendid conquest might result in the carrying out of the 
original plan upon Palestine. To avert this danger, he re- 
paired to Antioch to conclude, if possible, a treaty for six 
years' peace with the Christians. The sons of Elsiebede 
were permitted to accompany the army of their father on 
his most distant expeditions; and through the enlightened 
policy of Saphadin, or Saif Addin, during his absence, con- 
trary to the usual Oriental observances, the Moorish Euro- 
pean filled the office of regent of Jerusalem. Under her 
benign administration the pilgrims had access to the holy 
places, and protection in the practice of all the rites of 
Christianity. Salaman, whose self-comj)lacency and curi- 
osity gave him a benevolent interest in all matters pertain- 
ing to politics, humanity, or religion, was the usual medium 
of communication between the empress and those who had 
occasion to solicit favors from her hand. He was the Mer- 
cury to convey safe conducts, the Apollo to usher petition- 
ers into her presence. 

The garb of the pilgrim had consequently become to her 
a familiar sight, and it was therefore without surprise that 
she saw her attendant enter with a toil-worn man leaning 



808 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

upon a palmer's staff. Her beneficence to the Christians, 
and her afFabih'ty towards all her dependents had made 
her a frequent listener to the tales of pilgrims, and intent 
upon her own thoughts she heard with an abstracted air the 
story of the mendicant, till he uttered the name of Kichard. 
Instantly she was all attention. 

The old man had been the confessor of Henry H., but 
won by the cordial frankness and generous impulses of 
CcBur de Lion, he availed himself of every opportunity af- 
forded by his intimacy with Henry to forward the interests 
of the young prince. The king had confided to the priest, 
as his spiritual father, his attachment to the fair and frail 
Alice of France ; and the monk had betrayed the secret of 
the confessional to Prince Richard. By a law of Henry I., 
all priests guilty of this crime were condemned to perpetual 
wandering, and Kichard, in his first agony and remorse, at 
the death of his father, caused the penalty to be strictly 
enforced. The poor monk, therefore, had for nearly twenty 
years practised a weary piligrimage from one holy place to 
another, resting in monasteries, walking unshod before 
shrines of peculiar sanctity, and kneeling or watching in 
every cave or hermitage where the hallowed remains of a 
saint might be supposed to avail for his absolution. Pur- 
sued thus by the furies of remorse, and the curses of the 
church, he had visited the shrines of St. Wulstan, St. Dun- 
stan, St. Thomas of Canterbury, St. James of Compostella, 
the crucifix of Lucca, the congregated Saints at Rome, the 
cave of St. Cyprian in Africa, and had now come to pray 
God to release his soul at the church of the Holy Sepulchre. 

At the mention of St. James of Compostella, Elsiebede 
seemed agitated, and when the monk ceased his story, she 
anxiously inquired whether in his travels through Spain, 
he had rested in Pampeluna. 

" I tarried there some days," returned the pilgrim, " but 
it is several years since, and but for a strange circumstance 
it might have faded from my memory ; for he who thinks 
ever upon his own sins has little leisure to study that which 
pleases or benefits others." 



VIOLANTE. 809 

" Relate to me this circumstance," cried Elsiebede, 
eagerly. 

'' As 1 knelt at high mass," resumed the priest, " a noble 
lady, closely veiled, bowed at the altar by my side. When 
the solemn ceremony was over, and she rose to depart, an 
attendant whispered me to follow. She led the way to her 
oratory in the palace of the king, where she showed me 
that she was the widow of my deceased lord, Richard 
Coeur de Lion." 

" My dear lady Berengaria," exclaimed Elsiebede, the 
tears falling from her eyes like rain. 

"It was, indeed, that honored queen," said the pilgrim; 
"who learning that I had loved and served the noblest 
prince in Christendom, sent for rae to confess the follies of 
her past life, and to entreat me to perform for her in Pales- 
tine certain vows which she had made during the long 
and painful imprisonment of her royal husband. It was 
her purpose to expiate her own sins by a life of voluntary 
penitence and devotion in the convent of L' Espan : but 
before retiring from the world, she desired to make one 
more effort for the people of God in the Holy Land. She 
made me acquainted, therefore, most noble lady, with thy 
former estate in her household, and how God had exalted 
thee to be the spouse of a prince and ruler, as he did afore- 
time the royal Esther, who came to be Queen of Persia. 
She bade me remind thee of the kindness that had been 
shown thee, when thou wert a stranger in a strange land, 
and she commendeth her love to thee by this j)recious 
jewel, that thou mayest look upon it, and show mercy to 
those who are ready to perish for the faith of our holy 
church." With a pious precision that mocked the impa- 
tience of Elsiebede, he drew from his scrip a small reliquary 
which he slowly unclasped, and taking thence the magic 
ring, around which clustered so many associations, pre- 
sented it to the sultana. Salaman, who had lost not a 
motion nor a word of the pilgrim, at sight of the ring, for- 
got the respectful observance that had been enforced since 
his residence at the eastern court, pressed forward and 



310 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

gazed iipun the i)rccious talisman. TJie emotions of Elsie- 
bed e precluded utterance, and the monk waited her reply 
in silence, till Salamau comprehending her wishes in the 
matter, accompanied the pilgrim to the house of the patri- 
arch, and made the necessary arrangements for the per- 
formance of his vows. 

The gratitude of Elsiebede for the return of her long- 
loved, long-lost treasure, bringing before her as it did, 
the image of her widowed mistress, and the tender sym- 
pathy, which years of intimacy had engendered, warmed 
her heart still more to the Christians, and she studied 
to inculcate in the minds of her children, an amicable dis- 
position towards the Latin inhabitants of Palestine. 

The sister of Sybilla, Isabella, firstly, widow of Conrad, 
secondly, widow of Henry, Count of Champagne, and 
thirdly, widow of Almeric of Lusignan, the twelfth King 
of Jerusalem, at last died, leaving her proud pretensions 
and her disputed possessions to Mar}^, her daughter by 
Conrad. Alice, her daughter by Henry, was married to 
Hugh of Lusignan, the son of her last husband, and had 
been already proclaimed Queen of Cyprus. The claim of 
Mary, therefore, to the throne of Jerusalem was undisputed, 
and as Palestine was at that time without l(Ti-d or ruler 
.worthy to sway the ideal sceptre that cost so much blood 
and treasure, the Bishop of Acre, and the Lord of Cesarea 
were deputed by the christian knights to wait upon Philip 
Augustus, King of Prance, and demand of him a husband 
for the young princess. 

While the potentates of Palestine and Europe were thus 
occupied in tlie benevolent enterprise of procuring her a 
husband, the orphan, Mary, dwelt quietly at Acre ; and it 
occurred to the politic Saif-Eddin, that a union between 
the young princess and his eldest son, Cohr-Eddin, might 
cement a peace between Syria and Palestine. The ambi- 
tious youth became very much interested in the affair, and 
readily entered into his parent's plan for his aggrandizement. 

The magnificent embassy despatched by the Emperor of 
the East, to demand the hand of the fair heiress for liis son. 



VIOLANTE. 311 

set out f roniDamascus loaded with most rare and costly gifts. 
Colir-Eddin, with the enthusiasm of a lover, determined to ex- 
ercise the liberty of the European princes and gain an inter- 
view with his intended bride. Before setting out be received 
from his mother a fragment of the true cross, and thus armed 
with what he thought would render him irresistible to the 
christian maiden, he rode gaily along at the head of the splen- 
did cavalcade, beguiling the way in converse with a cele- 
brated Howadji, learned in the precepts of the Koran, and in 
the gorgeous and metaphorical fictions of eastern poetry. 

In the desert, as in the sea, the eye takes in a vast circle 
without obstruction from forest or dwelling : the scouts 
on the second day, therefore, easily discerned, far in the 
rear, a solitary horseman upon a fleet Arabian barb. He 
did not, however, join the troop, but passing it to the north, 
disappeared in the distance ere conjecture had settled upon 
his identity, or the cause of his sudden apparition. 

When the hour for evening prayers arrived, on the last 
day of the journey, the cortege turned aside into a small 
grove of palms, and sought refreshment by a fountain, 
which threw up its clear waters, and with untiring voice, 
warbled its perpetual hymn. The breath of the evening 
was scented by the odor of the sorrowful nyctanthes, and 
as they entered, they observed that the place had been ren- 
dered sacred by the burial of one whose marble tomb, des- 
titute of name or inscription, was shaded by the tender 
leaves of the sensitive mimosa. 

The repast being over, the story -loving Saracens gathered 
around the Howadji, who continued to unfold the stores 
of his learning, descanting upon the beauties of the place, 
and the influen ces of the stars, that, like the generations of 
the earth, follow each other in solemn procession, through 
the heavens ; and drawing from his memory gems of poetry 
appi'opriate to the time and occasion. Thus said he :— 

" Open thiae eyes to consider the Narcissus, 
Thou wouldst say it is the circle of the Pleiades around the sun ; 
Yet since the Rose has removed the veil from before her cheek, 
The Nai'cissus has become all eyes to jjaze upon her." 



812 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

"Tlie Violet has felt humbled and concealed her head under the purple man- 
tle that covers her ; 
One would say that the verdure has formed beneath her feet inviting unto 
prayer." 

" Yet as the sun among the stars, and the rose among the flowers of the gar- 
den, 
So is the Beloved to the partial eyes of the lover." 

A voice singing or chanting in the Persian, seemed to 
reply from the precincts of the tomb : — 

" Child of Adam, heir of worldly glory, let not Hope deceive thee. 
For I passed an undistinguished grave in the midst of a garden, 
And the narcissus, and the rose, and the violet clustered round it, 
And the star-like anemone shed its red light upon it. 
And I said, whose tomb is this ? 
And the soil answered. 
Be respectful, for this is the resting-place of a lover." 

" So I said, God keep thee, oh ! victim of love. 
For thou hast fallen beneath the simoom of passion, 
Or perished with the mildew of disappointment." 

The voice ceased — the company waited in silence for the 
renewal of the song : but the nightingale alone took up the 
strain, and the spreading of the tents and the sweet slum- 
ber that falls upon the weary, effaced the remembrance of 
the mysterious serenade from the minds of all but Cohr- 
Eddin. A superstitious fear weighed upon the spirit of 
the lover, and haunted his imagination. It was destiny 
warning him of disappointment, it was a rival triumphing 
in his chagrin ; in either case it argued ill for the success 
of his suit, and robbed him of his rest. 

When they set forward the following morning, they 
again caught a glimpse of the unknown cavalier, spurring 
on before them, and a messenger, mounted on the fleetest 
steed of the party, was despatched to overtake the stranger, 
and learn his purj)ose. The mission was unsuccessful, and 
the affair was passed over in silence. 

The embassy was received with great distinction by the 
christian lords in charge of Acre. The advantages of the 



VIOLANTE. 813 

proposed alliance were such as carried conviction to the 
most obtuse minds. The ardor of the lover, enforced by 
his presence, and by an animation unusual to the formal 
Orientals, gave to the Templars the strongest hopes of be- 
ing able to make their own terms with the Sultan, and they 
eagerly advocated the propriety of a betrothal between the 
j)arties, before the messengers could return from Europe 
with the husband provided by the French king. 

But as the Princess Mary had been made fully aware of 
the importance of her hand to Christendom, and as her 
imagination might have been captivated by the glowing 
descriptions of the western knight who should lay his honors 
at her feet, the affair was considered of too delicate a char- 
acter to admit of their interference : they concluded, 
therefore, to leave the lover to plead his own cause with 
the proud queen. 

As Cohr-Eddin was conducted to the hall of audience, 
he encountered an individual, whose person seemed famil- 
iar, but whose fixce was studiously concealed, and who evi- 
dently sought to escape observation. When he entered 
the royal presence the lady appeared agitated, and despite 
her efforts at self-control teara forced themselves from her 
eyes, yet the un]>ropitious omen at the same time gave 
such a subdued and tender expression to her lustrous 
beauty, that the young Moslem acknowledged at once the 
power of her charms. But neither the stately courtesy, 
nor the florid flatteries of eastern compliment, nor the rich 
presents which he laid at her feet, nor the tempting offer 
of the crown matrimonial of Syria, nor even the piece of 
sacred wood which he brought to back his suit, had power 
to move the heart of the christian maiden. She steadfastly 
plead her engagement to abide by the arrangements of her 
ambassadors. The penetrating Saracen perceived, how- 
ever, that it was the state of her affections, and not her 
principles that made his case utterly hopeless. He could 
not escape the suspicion that the mysterious horseman 
was in some way connected with his disappointment ; but 
as he could not learn the name or rank of his rival, his 



314 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

wounded pride had not the usual alleviation of meditated 
revenge. 

On his return to Damascus, he found that during his 
absence a division of the Empire had been determined 
upon ; that his younger brother had been made Sultan of 
Egypt, while to himself was committed the sovereignty of 
Syria and Palestine. 

Affairs were in this posture when Jean de Brienne, the 
nobleman designated by Philip Augustus, with a train of 
three hundred knights arrived at Acre. The next day he 
received the hand of Mary in marriage, and shortly after- 
wards was crowned Kinp; of Jerusalem. 



CHAPTER II. 



-"Death grinned horribly 



A ghastly smile." 

A FEW years of unsuccessful conflict with the politic and 
warlike Saphadin, sufiiced to acquaint the new king with 
the condition of affairs in Palestine. He displayed his 
valor in many a fierce encounter, and saved his states from 
utter annihilation, but he foresaw the approaching ruin of 
the holy cause, and wrote a letter to the pope, stating that 
the kingdom of Jerusalem consisted only of two or three 
towns, which by a vigorous action on the part of his foes, 
might be wrested from him at any moment. 

Innocent III. answered by a circular letter, calling on all 
the sovereigns and clergy of Christendom, to seek a crown 
of glory in the sacred wars of Palestine ; and by an epistle 
to Saphadin, in which he reminded the powerful Infidel, 
that the Holy Land was in the possession of the Mussul- 
mans, not on account of their virtues, but the sins of the 
Christians. The anger of Heaven, however, he said, was 
tempered with mercy, and the time was at hand when that 



VIOLANTE. 815 

mercy would be shown in an especial manner, and he 
finished by exhorting the Sultan to resign peacefully, a 
country which was a source of more inconvenience than 
profit to the Moslems. 

As the dignified Saracen made no overtures of capitula- 
tion, the pope found it necessary to put this boasted mercy 
to the proof, and the Sixth Crusade was accordingly preach- 
ed in every church of Europe. A general council was 
held in the palace of the Lateran, a.d. 1215, for the im- 
j)ortant but dissimilar purposes of crowning Frederic II. 
grandson of Frederic Barbarossa, and for chastising vice 
in its various forms and condemning heresy in all its 
phases, and also for the sake of inducing princes and people 
to join the expedition to the Holy Land. 

-" There were present the Patriarchs of Constantinople 
and Jerusalem, the ambassador of the Patriarch of Antioch, 
seventy- four metropolitan primates, and three hundred and 
forty bishops. The abbots and friars numbered eight 
hundred, but the representatives of the higher clergy could 
not be calculated. The Emperor of Constantinople, the 
Ejngs of France, England, Hungary, Jerusalem, Arragon, 
and the sovereigns of many other countries, were repre- 
sented in the assembly." 

After the general interests of the church had been con- 
sidered and the heretics summarily given over to all the 
miseries of this life, and the pains of that to come, war 
ao-ainst the Saracens, was declared to be the most sacred 
duty of the European world. The usual privileges and in- 
dulgences were accorded to the pilgrims, all tournaments 
during the three years appointed for the crusade, were pro- 
hibited, and universal peace was decreed, to all christian 
kingdoms for the same period. Frederic II. was crowned 
on condition of joining the expedition. 

The troubadours again took down their harps, and the 
voice of song echoing through castle and hall aroused the 
enthusiasm of youth, and awoke the slumbering energies 
of age. The pontiff himself declared his intention of visit- 
ing tlie Holy Land, and the wafriors said one to another, 



316 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES, 

" Let us spread our sacred banners and pass the seas ; let 
us impress upon our bodies the sign of the cross ; let us 
restore Christ to his inheritance, and by our deeds of arms 
merit the admiration of men, and the approbation of Heav- 
en." 

This crusade is divided into three parts. The expedition 
of Andrew II. King of Hungary ; the war in Egypt, led 
by the Pope's legate and King Jean ; and the campaign of 
the Emperor Frederic II., the first two divisions with their 
multiplied and sanguinary events, shaping the destiny and 
affecting the fortunes of Violante, the infant daughter of 
John de Brienne and Mary, King and Queen of Jerusalem. 

Not long after Philip Augustus furnished from his do- 
minions so wise and noble a knight to protect the rights of 
Mary and Jerusalem, he was called upon to exercise again 
his royal prerogative of match-maker and king-maker by 
deputies from Constantinople. 

The first Latin sovereign of the Greek Empire, Baldwin 
of Flanders, left his crown to his brother Henry. This 
prince dying without children, the next heir was his sister 
Yolande, widow of a French noble, and mother-in-laAV to 
Andrew II. King of Hungary. But tlie sceptre of empire 
in Constantinople, as well as in Jerusalem, could be swayed 
only by the firm hand of a warrior, and the deputies be- 
sought Philip Augustus to provide at once a husband 
for Yolande, and an emperor for the throne of the Caesars. 
The choice fell upon Peter Courtenay, cousin of the French 
king. The bridegroom — monarch elect, was conducted by 
a noble retinue to the Court of Hungary, where the mar- 
riage ceremony was performed by the successor of Inno- 
cent, Pope Honorius III. King Andrew then, in setting 
off for the crusade, accompanied the bridal party, dignified 
by the presence of the sovereign pontiff to the gates of 
Constantinople, where he witnessed the august ceremony 
of investing the monarch with the imperial purple, and 
saw the poj^e place the diadem of the East upon the head 
of his roj'al father-in-law. From Constantinople the Hun- 
garian leader sailed for Cyprus, where he was admitted to 



VIOLANTE. 317 

an audience, with Hugh and Alice, king and queen of that 
island and thence with favorable winds passed over the 
Levant, and landed in safety at Acre. 

This city was at that time the metroj^olis of the Holy 
Land, and in the palace formerly occupied by the queens 
Berengaria and Joanna, the stern western warriors knelt 
and did homage to Yiolante, the young Princess of Pales- 
tine. Saphadin had retired from the constant toils of roy- 
alty, and blessed with the resj)ect of his people, and the 
sweet affection of Elsiebede, resided in security at Damas- 
cus. 

Cohr-Eddin, the reigning monarch, unprepared for the 
sudden invasion of his territories, was unable to call to- 
gether his scattered tribes in sufficient force to hazard a 
general battle with the croises. The King of Hungary 
therefore led his army unmolested across " that ancient 
river, the river Kishon," over the plain of Jezreel, to the 
valley of the Jordan. They bathed in the sacred river ; 
made the pilgrimage of the lake Gennesareth ; visited the 
scenes made sacred by the miracles of the Saviour, and 
returned to Acre. 

On the mount of Transfiguration the Saracens had built 
and fortified a tower of exceeding strength, and the sol- 
diers, anxious to achieve something worthy the expedition, 
clamored to be led to the siege of this fortress ; but hordes 
of armed Mussulmans were every day crowding to the vi- 
cinity, and the restless Andrew, afraid to undertake any- 
thing further, resolved on a return to Europe. 

l^either the entreaties nor threats of the Latin Christians, 
who had received him with hospitality, and exhausted their 
supplies in his entertainment, could persuade him to ven- 
ture a blow for Palestine. Taking with him most of his 
soldiers, he returned through the Greek Empire, collecting 
relics from every holy place on his route, having so impov- 
erished his kingdom by the expenses of the expedition, 
that it did not for years recover its pristine state. Thus 
ended the first division of the Sixth Crusade. 

Still the Latins of Palestine were not left destitute. The 



818 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

Duke of Aiistria remained with a company of German 
crusaders, and the next year, when a reinforcement arrived, 
King Jean de Brienne with the Temj^lars and Hospitallers, 
decided to transfer the seat of war to the dominions of 
Melech Camel, the youngest son of Saphadin and Elsie- 
bede. Damietta was considered the key of Egypt, and 
thither the crusaders sailed in the month of May, a.d. 1216. 
A gallant band, selected from every nation in the army, led 
the assault against the citadel on St. Bartholomew's day. 
The garrison defended themselves with valor, but finally 
capitulated, and the rest of the city was looked upon as an 
easy conquest. 

It was at this time that the Counts La Marche and ISTev- 
ers arrived at the head of the French division of the cru- 
sade, but notwithstanding this new importation of knightly 
valor, the siege of Damietta went on but slowly. The 
legate of the pope advanced a claim to the office of com- 
mander-in-chief in right of his S]3iritual superiority ; the 
Syrian Christians rallied around their King Jean de Bri- 
enne, and the French would yield obedience to none but 
their native leadei's. Thus the captured castle of Damietta 
became a very Babel, from the confusion of tongues. Sev- 
enteen months were passed in furious attacks and idle 
skirmishes. The Saracens fought many well-contested bat- 
tles with the Christians in their camp, but the issue of most 
of these conflicts was disastrous to the Moslems. 

While the valiant Melech Camel was thus encased in 
the gallant defence of his dominions, the death of Saif-Ed- 
din deprived him of the counsels and assistance of the most 
successful chieftain that ever ruled the East. 

When the news of the sad event reached Egypt, the sub- 
jects of the Sultan withdrew from their allegiance and 
joined the standard of a young Emir who attempted to 
make the sufferings of his country the means of his own 
aggrandizement. Melech Camel, obliged to escape for 
safety, fled over to Arabia, and thence directed his course 
toward Syria. Passing through El-akof, or territory of the 
winding sands, he came to the valley of Kadesh, where he 



VIOLANTE. 319 

descried a caravan encamped for the night. In doubt 
whether the convoy was guarded by the tributaries of his 
brother, or by a hostile tribe of Bedouins, he cautiously ap- 
proached the well around which tethered horses and mules 
were browsing upon the scanty herbage, and multitudes of 
camels were lying in quiet repose. White tents like a set- 
ting of pearls around a central diamond encircled a silken 
pavilion of unrivalled magnificence, on the top of which 
gleamed a silver crescent, at once the symbol of the Mos- 
lem faith, and the reflection of its bright archetyj^e in the 
sky. The watch-fires burned low, and no sounds of life 
broke the profound silence that reigned throughout the ex- 
tended realm of night. Dismounting and throwing the 
rein of his steed across his arm, to be prepared for any 
emergency, he advanced stealthily to the entrance of the 
circle. As he lifted the awning a small, dark, misshapen 
figure, like the fabled genii that guard the treasures of the 
East, rose up before him, and one glance at the ugly but 
welcome visage of Salaman assured him that he was among 
friends. The intelligence which he received from the faith- 
ful black, was even more gratifying than his appearance. 
The caravan was laden with provisions for the suffering sol- 
diers in Egypt. Elsiebede herself occupied the royal pavil- 
ion, and Cohr Eddin was levying forces to come to the 
rescue of Damietta. Salaman led the way to a tent where, 
after listening to these satisfactory details, the fugitive 
monarch was left to the enjoyment of a repose to which he 
had long been stranger. 

The meeting between Elsiebede and her favorite and un- 
fortunate son, was of the most tender character. She ac- 
quainted him with the particulars of his father's death, and 
of the affairs that disturbed the peace of the empire. 
"When Cohr-Eddin, returning from his unsuccessful suit to 
the heiress of Jerusalem, found that his brother had been 
sent to Egypt, he was confirmed in the suspicion that his 
rival was no other than Melech Camel. He recalled the 
figure of the solitary horseman, the voice at the tomb, and 
the disguised stranger, and, incensed at the thought that 



320 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

his brother had supplanted him in the aiFections of the 
princess, he determined to pursue him to his new domin- 
ions and take summary vengeance ujDon him. To soothe 
the irritated and jealous feelings of Cohr-Eddin, Elsiebede 
had been under the necessity of revealing the secret which 
her younger son had confided to her on the eve of his de- 
parture for Egypt, namely, his early attachment for Mary 
formed during a residence at the Latin court, the hope he 
had cherished of uniting the kingdoms by a union with the 
object of his afiections, and the struggle it had cost him to 
relinquish those pretensions. Cohr-Eddin, less noble than 
his brother, could scarcely be brought to credit the asser- 
tion that Camel's visit to Acre had originated in a desire to 
leave Mary free to accept his proposals, but as it was then 
the festival of the Ramadan, in which it is not permitted 
for the faithful to make war upon each other, the execution 
of his revenge was necessarily delayed, and before the ex- 
piration of the sacred period, his presence was required 
upon the frontiers of his kingdom to repel the irruption of 
the Mongols. 

The timely relief afforded by the stores of the caravan, 
and the warlike fame and forces of his brother, soon rein- 
stated Camel in his possessions ; but their united efforts 
were insufiicient to drive the Christians from Egypt. Be- 
fore leaving Palestine, Cohr-Eddin apprehensive that his 
own territories might be garrisoned against him, destroyed 
the wall of Jerusalem, and broke down its defences with 
the exception of the tower of David, and the temple of the 
sepulchre ; and after many gallant battles, deeming it im- 
possible to raise the siege of Damietta, he proposed to the 
Crusaders peace. The Moslems, he said, would give up 
the piece of the true cross, release all the Christian prison- 
ers in Syria and Egypt, rebuild the walls of Jerusalem, and 
relinquish the sacred city to its Latin king, John de 
Brienne. 

The French and the Germans hailed with joy the pros- 
pect of a speedy termination of the war ; but the fanatical 



VIOLANTE, 321 

devotees of the cburcb, the Templars, legates, and bishops 
were deaf to the counsels of moderation, and it was decided 
to pursue the siege with vigor. 

Daraietta was taken ; but with such determined valor 
had the Moslems defended their city, that of the popula- 
tion, which, at the commencement of the siege, consisted of 
seventy thousand souls, scarce three thousand upon the 
day of final attack appeared upon the ramparts. A gate 
was forced, and the warriors of the cross rushed forward to 
commence the work of plunder. They met neither a re- 
sistant nor a suppliant enemy. The awful silence struck a 
chill upon their souls. They passed along the deserted 
streets. The waysides were strewn with dead bodies in 
every state of putrescence. They entered the dwellings. 
In every room ghastly corpses, with visages shrunken by 
famine or bloated by pestilence, glared upon them. Turk 
and Mameluke, Copt and Arab, master and servant, rich 
and poor, were heaped in undistinguished masses, the 
dying with the dead. Infants appealing in vain to the 
pulseless breasts of famished mothers, lifted their feeble 
cries for sustenance ; dogs ran about the streets, and pesti- 
lential effluvia rose like an exhalation from the vast charnel- 
house, whose appalling stillness the Christians had invaded 
with songs of triumph and rejoicing. They had overcome 
the Moslems, but they found the conqueror Death seated on 
the throne of dominion. Awe-struck and abashed they 
fled from before the presence of the King of Terrors, gladly 
granting life and liberty to the surviving Moslems, on con- 
dition of their performing the horrid and melancholy task 
of cleansing the city from the remains of their relatives 
and friends. 

The way into Palestine was now open, and King Jean 
proposed to the victorious Christians to marcli immediately 
thither ; but the legate of the pope insisted that the com- 
plete conquest of Egypt should first be effected. Plis arro- 
e:ance overruled wiser counsels, and it was resolved to 
pursue Melech Camel to Cairo. Tlie croises accordingly 
advanced on the eastern bank of the Nile, till tlieir progress 

21 



322 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

was arrested by the canal of Asbmoun. on the south side of 
which the forces of Islam were stationed. Every emir of 
Syria had sent assistance to Melech, and the Latins were pre- 
vented from leaving their position, till the period of the 
annual influx of the Nile, when the Mussulmans opened 
their sluices, inundated their enemy's camp, cut off all 
communication with the sea-coast, and enclosed them like 
fish in a net. The tents and baggage were swept away ; 
the provisions spoiled, the terrible scourge that had de- 
stroyed the inhabitants of Damietta, apj^eared in the camp, 
and the humbled Christians made overtures of peace, 
promising to evacuate Egypt, on condition of being per- 
mitted to return in safety to Acre. The generous Melech 
Camel acceded to this proposal. Hostages were exchanged 
for the performance of the treaty, and the noble King of 
Jerusalem, together with his wife and their daughter, 
Yiolante, were among the number. 

The Sultan of Egypt received his guests with distinguish- 
ed honor, and provided for their j^rincely entertainment 
in Cairo. As the sympathetic Latin chief took leave of his 
suffering followers, tears overflowed his manly cheeks. 
"Why do you weep?" exclaimed the compassionate 
sultan. " I have cause to weep," returned the king, " the 
people whom God has given to my charge, are perishing 
amidst the waters, dying with hunger, or falling a prey to 
the pestilence." " Despair not," replied the noble Melech, 
" for what saith the proverb ? ' To everything there is an 
end,' therefore, mourn not, for misfortunes shall find a 
termination." He turned to his soldiers, and gave orders 
that the granaries of Egypt should be opened for their suf- 
fering foes. 

As the royal hostages approached the palace of the Sul- 
tan, they were preceded hy troops of vassals, called ap- 
paritors, who, sword in hand and with great clamor, led 
them through narrow and winding passages, where at every 
gate cohorts of armed Ethiopians, bowed with their faces 
in the dust before the Sultan, and welcomed liis triumphant 
return, with the harsh dissonance of the Saracen drum, 



VIOLANTE. 338 

and the shrill tones of the Syrian pipe. They entered next 
upon a broader space open to the clear light of day, where 
were galleries wainscoted with gold, and ornamented with 
marble pillars and sculptured images of the old Egyptian 
deities ; and paved with mosaics of colored stone. There 
were basins filled with limpid waters, which glided in 
shining streams over rocks arranged to resemble the ravines 
and grottoes of the wilderness. The branches of the olive, 
pomegranate and fig were loaded with fruit, and the place 
resounded with the warblius; of birds of varied and o-or- 
geous plumage ; while through vistas pleasantly opening 
to them as they passed, the eye caught glimpses of artificial 
forests in which bounded the silver-footed antelope, and the 
bright-eyed gazelle, with multitudes of graceful and beauti- 
ful animals, " Such as painters imagine in the wantonness 
of their art, such as poetic fancies describe, such as we see 
in dreams, and such as are found only in the lands of the 
Orient and the South." The open court turned upon a cor- 
ridor, and at the entrance beneath a crystal floor, there rolled 
a clear stream through which the glittering gold fish sport- 
ed, and the mottled trout pursued the shining insects with 
restless avidity. The little Yiolante unpractised in the de- 
ceits of art, lifted her robe and stepped daintily upon the 
glassy surface, as if to lave her tiny feet in the translucent 
waters. Finding that the firm basis yielded not to the 
tr<;ad, she passed on with a puzzled look of surprise and 
pleasure, till her attention was attracted by the sound of 
a multitude of voices, and melodious harpings with which 
the satellites of the ante-chamber greeted their approach. 
Bands of Mamelukes dressed in robes of the greatest mag- 
nificence, prostrated themselves thrice before their Sultan, 
and then raised their feathery wands to bar the progress of 
the train to the inner court of the harem. The gates rolled 
back upon their golden hinges, and a troop of maidens 
fair as the houries, approached to receive the christian fe- 
males, while the Sultan with the king and his knights 
turned away from the closing gates, like lost spirits ban- 
ished from the bowers of Elysiuui. 



324 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

Welcomed by the inmates of the seraglio, the royal 
ladies were conducted to baths, where all sense of fatigue 
was lost in the plastic embrace of the fragrant waters ; 
after which reclining upon couches they enjoyed delicious 
repose, while their dark-eyed attendants plaited their hair 
according to the eastern fashion, and apparelled them with 
the flowing and graceful drapery of the Egyptian court. 
Thence they were ushered into a refectory, where seated 
upon divans, they regaled themselves with a simple colla- 
tion of cakes and fruits, inhaling the balmy air redolent 
with accumulated sweets, gathered from the fragrant gar- 
dens that bordered the Nile. From the banquet room they 
passed to an apartment magnificently adorned with all the 
appliances of Oriental luxury. Lofty windows admitted 
the light, which, shaded by curtains of varied colore, was 
tempered to a soft radiance that filled the apartment with 
an indefinable bloom. Suddenly the silken partitions in- 
woven with pearls and gold in the midst of the hall, were 
drawn aside, and Elsiebede, descending from a canopied 
throne, and resigning the stately dignity of the queen, 
greeted her European guests with the gracious familiarity 
that she had learned in the household of Richard Coeur de 
Lion. Reclining upon cushions that olfered rest and inspired 
a soft languor, they listened to her sweet assurances of 
favor uttered in the welcome language of Fraiigistan, or 
watched the airy motions of sportive girls, who keeping 
time to the tinkling ornaments that decorated their delicate 
limbs, sported before them in the joyous evolutions of the 
dance. The unaffected grace of the little Violante, who 
joined Hie |)erformers, gave infinite delight to the alm^ or 
leanicd women, who accomjjanied by the Syrian lute, sang 
verses in compliment to the distinguished guests. 

Upon the evacuation of Egypt by the Christians, tlie 
volunteers returned to Europe, and the Barons of Syria 
and the military orders retired to Acre. The hostages 
being now at liberty, the king set off for Palestine, leaving 
his wife and child to travel by tlie imperial caravan, under 
the safe conduct of the Sultana, lie found his kino-dom in 



VIOLANTE. 325 

a distracted state. The Templars were in effect the lords 
of Palestine, and a cessation of hostilities with the Infidels, 
was but a signal for the breaking out of animosities be 
tween the rival Christians. 

Disheartened with the gloomy aspect of things, the dis- 
consolate king sat in his palace at Acre, devising schemes 
to mend his broken fortunes, each one of which, upon 
mature consideration, he was forced to abandon as hope- 
less and impracticable, when the chamberlain entered 
and presented a letter. The epistle was from Elsiebede, 
and brought the melancholy intelligence of the death of 
his beloved Mary, whose remains, preserved in wax, and 
attended by her own christian maidens, had been brought 
to Acre under the convoy of the fleet of Melech Camel. 
With the delicate tenderness of one who had tasted grief, 
the Sultana dwelt upon the virtues of the deceased queen, 
and consoled the bereaved husband with assurances that 
her disease had been treated by the most learned leeches of 
the royal household, and her last hours been blest with the 
attendance of a christian priest, and the performance of 
the rites enjoined by the christian faith. Concerning the 
orphan, Violante, she continued, "Let the damsel, I pray 
thee, abide with me, that I may show kindness unto her for 
her mother's sake. She shall have the nurture of a prin- 
cess in the house of the Egyptian, for God hath made her 
unto me as Moses to the daughter of Pharaoh. The an- 
gel of the storm rideth upon the sea, while the winter re- 
maineth, but when the queen of the flowers shall ascend 
her throne of enamelled foliage, thou mayest require her, 
and she shall come to thee, by the blessing of Allah (whose 
name be exalted), and by the blessing also of thy jjrophet 
Jesus, in whom thou trustest." 

Tlie burial-ground of Acre was crowded with christian 
graves. The best and noblest of the brave sons of the 
West, champions and martyrs of the cross, had there gained 
worthy sepulture ; but it was meet that the Queen of Jeru- 
aaleni slioiild find her last resting-place among the ancient 
kings of tliiit time-honored metropolis. By the favor of Cobr- 



826 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

Eddin permission was gained to convey her body thither ; 
mass was said for her soul in the church of the Holy Sep- 
ulchre ; her grave was made in the valley of Jehoshaphat ; 
and Christian and Saracen stood together in reverent si- 
lence, while the Patriarch of Jerusalem committed " Earth 
to earth, and dust to dust," to wait the morning of the 
resurrection. 



CHAPTER III. 

"The death of those distinguished by their station, 
But by their virtue more, awakes the mind 
To solemn dread, and strikes a saddening awe." 

When the loss of Damietta and the evacuation of Egypt 
was known at Rome, Pope Honorius HI. reproached the 
emperor, Frederic IT. with being tlie cause of the signal 
failure of the christian arms in the East, and threatened 
him with excommunication if he did not immediately ful- 
fil his vow, by leading his armies against the Infidel. 
This insolence roused the indignation of the prince, and 
excited him to hostility. He proceeded to claim the king- 
dom of the two Sicilies, in right of his mother, Constance, 
and marching thither, drove out the partisans of the Holy 
See, established bishops of his own choosing in the vacant 
benefices, and even threatened to plunder Rome. Hono- 
rius discovering that he had involved himself in strife 
with a powerful enemy, wrote a conciliatory letter to ^he 
emperor, saying, " I exhort you, my dear son, to recall to 
your recollection, that you are the protector of the Roman 
Church ; do not forget what you OM^e to that good mother, 
and take pity on her daughter, the church of the East, which 
extends towards you her arms, like an unfortunate, w^ho has 
no longer any hope but in you." 

Frederic, too much occupied in his jilans for adding 
Italy to the German Empire, to undertake a distant expedi- 



VlOLANTE. 827 

tion that aftbrded so little prospect of an increase of j^atri- 
mony or glory, was, notwithstanding, willing to avail him- 
self of the popular enthusiasm. He professed his intention 
to obey the mandate of the holy father, and prepared for 
the pious work, by causing his son Henry to be crowned 
King of the Romans, and by adding the imperial to the 
kingly diadem upon his own head, 1220. It is even proba- 
ble that the subjugation of Italy, and the assertion of the 
rights of the temporal against the spiritual power, might 
have prevented Frederic from ever attempting anything for 
Palestine, had not the sagacious pontiff found an irresisti- 
ble ally in the beautiful Yiolante, Queen of Jerusalem. 

Wearied of endeavoring to convert his marital rights to 
the sovereignty of Jerusalem, into actual and firm do- 
minion, Jean de Brienne listened to the suggestions of the 
Roman legate, that his claims to the nominal crown might 
be transferred with the hand of his daughter to some j)ow- 
erful prince of Europe. 

Accompanied by the patriarch of Jerusalem, Jean de 
Brienne sailed for Egypt on his route to Italy. Melech 
Camel received his guests with a pompous distinction cal- 
culated to impress them with the security and prosperity 
of his government ; and Violante, whose sojourn with El- 
siebede had been protracted to several 3-ears, welcomed her 
father with the timid reserve consequent upon the harem-like 
seclusion in which she had been nurtured. Her dress was 
Oriental, both in richness of material and peculiarity of 
costume. She returned the king's embrace gracefully and 
affectionately, but when the patriarch fixed his admiring eyes 
upon her, she instantly concealed her blushing countenance 
behind the folds^of her veil, and the prelate observed that 
though the prayers she repeated in her agitation, were such 
as the church prescribed, she held in her hand an " Im- 
plement of praise," or Moslem rosary, of thrice three and 
thirty precious stones, and that she involuntarily mingled 
with her more orthodox devotions, " Ya Alia khalick, ya 
Alia karoeiu." He would fain have relieved her of the In- 
fidel cliann, but the spoiled princess resisted his pious en- 



328 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

deavor, and sought refuge from Lis remonstrances in the 
female apartments of the palace. 

The stay of Jean de Brienne in Egypt was marked by an 
event of great consequence, both to the Christians and 
Mussulmans. The health of Elsiebede had long been de- 
clining ; and in the maturity of years, passed in benevo- 
lent efforts to harmonize the discordant interests of those 
among whom she dwelt a stranger and a sovereign, she 
sank to her rest. Violante wept bitterly at the loss of her 
patron and friend, but the Moorish maidens, to whom she 
had rendered herself inexpressibly dear, were not permit- 
ted by their law to indulge in expressions of sorrow, though 
an involuntary tear accompanied the consolatory words with 
which they addressed Melech Camel : " Alia wills it. 
May the blessing of the All-merciful rest upon thee." 

Violante had so long dwelt in the house of Elsiebede, 
that the distinctions of faith were forgotten, and she was 
allowed to mingle with the mourning-train that carried the 
body to the burial : but King Jean de Brienne and the pa- 
triarch of Jerusalem were prohibited from profaning the sa- 
cred ceremony by their presence. 

The serene dawn of an Eastern morning was gilding the 
domes and minarets of Cairo, as the body of Elsiebede was 
carried forth to the mosque, to be prepared, according to 
the faith of her fathers, for its final home. As the bearers 
entered the door, the congregation repeated in solemn ca- 
dence, " Praise be to God, the Lord of the worlds, the most 
merciful, the king of the day of judgment. Thee do we 
worship, and of thee do wq beg assistance. Direct us in 
the right way, in the way of those to whom thou hast been 
gracious ; not of those against whom thou art incensed, nor 
of those who go astray." 

The imam then stood up and called upon one and another 
to testify concerning the life of the illustrious dead ; and 
each vied with the other in recounting her acts of benefi- 
cence and piety, till the priest concluded with, " She was 
more glorious than the four perfect women who dwell in 
the bowers of the blest. She was more bountiful than Fa- 



VIOLANTE. 829 

tiina; slie liacl the virtue of Kadijali ; she was more con- 
stant than Asia ; she had the purity of Mary." 

Wrapped in jfine linen impregnated with spices and per- 
fumes, and laid in a coffin of cyj)ress, the remains were then 
carried to tlie place of interment, where a crowd of females 
who were not permitted to enter the mosque, sat closely 
veiled upon the ground in the utmost abandonment of silent 
sorrow. Others embraced the pillars that ornamented the 
graves, and cried out, " A leaf hath withered on the tree 
of life, a new guest cometh to the City of the Silent." 

The body was preceded by a noble Moor, who bore upon 
his head a box of cendal wood inlaid with mother-of-pearl. 
Arrived at the grave, the bearers set down the bier, and 
the imam called upon all to join him in prayer. Scarcely 
had the air ceased to vibrate with their voices, when the 
muezzins, placing frankincense in golden censers, touched 
it with burning coals, and a fragrant cloud laden with the 
breath of their petitions, seemed to float away towards heav- 
en. The imam standing at the head of the grave, opened 
the cendal box, and taking thence the leaves of the Koran, 
distributed them among the people, and all began to read 
in a low recitative chant, the words of the holy book, "By 
tlie brightness of the morning ; and by the night, when it 
groweth dark ; thy Lord hath not forsaken thee, neither 
doth he hate thee. Yerily the life to come shall be better 
for thee than the present life ; and thy Lord shall give thee 
a reward wherewith thou shalt be well pleased. Did not he 
find thee an orphan, and hath he not taken care of thee ? 
And did he not find thee wandering in error, and hath he 
not guided thee into the truth ? And did he not find thee 
needy, and hath he not enriched thee ? Wherefore declare 
the goodness of thy Lord." The coffin was deposited in 
the ground, and every friend and every bystander cast a 
portion of dust upon it, until the grave was filled. The 
imam then called out to the loved one, " Oh Elsiebede ! 
daughter of Eve, say that God is thy God, say that Mo- 
hammed is the prophet of God." He paused a moment as 
if listening for her response, and then continued, " Cer- 



330 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

tainlj thou bast acknowledged God for tlij God, Islamism 
for thy religion, Mohammed for thy prophet, the Koran for 
thy priest, the sanctuary of Mecca for thy Kibla, and the 
faithful for thy brethren." He turned to the congrega- 
tion, and spreading forth his hands repeated the bene- 
diction, " Oh Lord pour patience on iis, and cause us all to 
die Moslems." 

Melech Camel, as chief of the household, then approach- 
ed, and planted a sprig of cypress on the right and on the 
left of the grave, and each friend and relative performed 
the same sad duty, and then all standing together with 
their hands stretched out above the resting-place of the be- 
loved Sultana, rej^eated the portion of the sacred writings 
appointed for the closing service : " By the sun and its 
rising brightness — by the moon when she followeth him — 
by the day when he showeth his splendor — by the night 
when it covereth him with darkness — by the heaven and 
him who built it — by the earth and him who spread it 
forth — by the witness and the witnessed — by the soul and 
him who completely formed it, and inspired into the same 
its faculty of distinguishing and power of choosing wicked- 
ness and piety — now is he who hath possessed the same 
happy—" 

The procession then slowly and sadly departed from the 
hallowed precincts, and none marked the bowed and wast- 
ed figure of Salaman leaning upon the broken turf that hid 
from his dimmed and aged eyes the face of his only friend. 
His attachment for Elsiebede had been such as is common 
to animals remarkable for sagacity and fidelity, and the 
range of his intellect introducing him to no personal aspir- 
ings, all his thoughts had been concentrated in the one idea 
of serving his mistress. He had shared her confidence and 
favor in weal and in woe, and followed her fortunes with a 
zeal and industry that engrossed all his powers. ITow that 
she was no more, there remained for him neither aim nor 
purpose, neither hope nor desire. Without a country, with- 
out a religion, he had worshipped Mass with the Christians, 
and repeated the Creed with the Moslems ; but since Elsie- 



VIOLANTE. 331 

bede had entered upon an untried state, his desire to in- 
sure to her every possible good, led hira, at great personal 
inconvenience, to procure an ebony cross, that if she failed 
of the Mohammedan paradise, she might, through its influ- 
ence, gain an entrance into the Christian's heaven. With 
a feeble hand that scarce obeyed the promptings of his 
generous affection, the faithful black hollowed a place for 
the venerated symbol, and with great difficulty planted it 
firmly at the head of the grave. The pious task accom- 
plished, he knelt to repeat a christian prayer which they 
had learned together in the household of Berengaria. The 
familiar words overwhelmed him in a tide of long-forgotten 
reminiscences, and he fell prostrate upon the mound. 

The following morning Violante obtained permission to 
accompany the maidens to the burial-ground, and assist in 
garlanding the grave of the Sultana. At the sight of the 
silent worshipper they hushed their voices, but he heeded 
not their approach. The princess ventured to lift the hand 
that rested upon the cross. It was stiff and cold. She 
drew aside her veil and gazed upon his face. The faithful 
Salaman had expired upon the grave of Elsiebede. 



CHAPTER IV. 

"Her lot is on you — silent tears to weep, 
And patient smiles to wear through suffering's hour 
And sumless riches from Affection's deep, 
To pour on broken reeds — a wasted shower ! 
And to make idols, and to iiud them clay, 
And to bewail that worship — therefore pray !" 

YiOLANTE, the eastern beauty, whose hand held the keys 
of all the seaports of the Levant — the sceptre of the Latin 
kingdom of Palestine, and the diadem of Jerusalem — and 
whose voice alone could pronounce the magic " Sesame" 
that should open the gates of commerce, and pour the 



832 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

treasures of Sheba, and Dedan, and Opbir into the coffers 
of the church, created a great sensation in Europe. 

The titular king, John de Brienne, was ready to re- 
sign all the real or fancied good that might appertain 
to his daughter's dominions, in favor of any candidate 
whom the pope should select as her future husband ; and 
the presumptive queen, whose eastern preferences led her 
still to retain the timid reserve in which she had been 
educated, was not supposed to have any choice in the mat- 
ter. The wily pontiff desirous to bind the Ghibelline fac- 
tion like a victim to the horns of the altar, proposed a union 
between the son of the Emperor Frederic, and the daughter 
of John de Brienne. The young prince was delighted with 
his brilliant prospects, and readily assured the legate of 
the pope, that his sword should be ready at all times and 
in all places to execute the decrees of the church. 

Since her arrival at Rome, Yiolante had lived in almost 
utter solitude, mourning for the girlish sports that had given 
wings to the flying hours in the palace of Cairo, and weep- 
ing at the remembrance of the constant beneficence and ten- 
der counsels of the good Queen Elsiebede. She received the 
advances of the royal heir of Hohenstaufen with an embar- 
rassment that might portend either success or failure to his 
suit. He repeated his visits, and at each interview made 
desperate efforts to impress her with a sense of his devotion 
and to win in return some token of her regard ; but his 
self-felicitations reached no farther than a general convic- 
tion, that she was very beautiful and very bashful. John 
de Brienne represented to his daughter the necessity of 
fixing the affections of the young king. She listened with 
respectful silence, and interposed no objections to the 
arrangements making for her future hapj^iness. The nup- 
tials were to be celebrated on the occasion of a high fes- 
tival, at Ferentino, and the emperor with the chief digni- 
taries of his court was to grace the splendid ceremony. 
The week before the appointed day, Frederic arrived in 
Italy, and prompted by curiosity, sought an interview with 
his prospective daughter. Violante received the majestic 



VIOLANTE. 833 

emperor with the same maiden coyness that had character- 
ized her interviews with her lover ; but Frederic, whose ar- 
dent fancy was captivated by the fascinating Oriental, was 
not to be baffled by her shyness. After attempting an in- 
different conversation, in the French language, he changed 
his tactics, and modulating his voice to the low, deep tones 
of the Arabic, spoke to her of her former life, of her 
mother, of her future home. Suddenly the countenance 
of the delighted girl became radiant with animation, the 
eloquent blood mounted to her cheek, her eyes dilated with 
joy, and the admiring monarch listened in mute surprise, 
while in the graceful and poetical language of the East she 
narrated the particulars of her sojourn at Cairo, and describ- 
ed the games and sports she had enjoyed in the company 
of the Moorish maidens. She showed him her jewel rosary, 
with its pendant charm, the talisman of the Gyptianos, the 
last gift of Elsiebede ; but when she essayed to speak of 
the virtues of the sultana, tender recollections crowded so 
fast upon her, that her lips refused their office, and gushing 
tears alone finished her tale of gratitude and love. Her 
roj'al auditor soothed her agitation with assurances of 
sympathy and kindness, and on leaving the apartment, 
was flattered by her urgent request, that he would visit her 
again. Engagements of this sort, the amatory monarch 
seldom failed to fulfil. Each interview increased the 
charm, and deepened her affection ; and before the expira- 
tion of the week, he waited upon the pope to apprize hia 
holiness, that Violante had rejected the son, in favor of the 
father. The pontifi', well pleased with the turn affairs had 
taken, interposed but one condition, and Frederic having 
solemnly promised to undertake the crusade within two 
years, took the place of Henry at the altar, and espoused 
the heiress of Jerusalem. 

Pleased with his lovely acquisition, and occupied with 
the affairs of his realm, Frederic delayed under various 
pretexts the fulfilment of his vow, and neither the expostu- 
lations of pope nor peer had any influence upon his pur- 
poses, till he learned that Honorius had entered into a 



884 HEEOINES OF THE CKUSADES. 

league with his son Henry, the disappointed bridegroom, 
and instigated the cities of Lombardy to revolt. Alarmed 
at the disaffection of his subjects, Frederic renewed his 
promise, and went so far as to consign his kingdom to the 
protection of the church, during his absence. The death 
of the pope, in 1227, afforded him anotlier temporary respite. 

He had, however, in tliis change of pontiffs, as little mat- 
ter of congratulation, as the fox in the fable : Gregory IX. 
proving a more voracious and intolerant scourge, than his 
predecessor. After making arrangements to prosecute the 
designs of Honorius upon the Albigenses, the new pope 
published the eastern crusade, and called upon Frederic 
to set out without loss of time. 

The lovely Yiolante was drooping in her European home. 
The harsli and guttural language of the Germans, offended 
her ear, their rude and unpolished manners presented an 
effectual barrier to the light and graceful amusements, 
which she sought to introduce in her court, and her delicate 
frame chilled by the severity of a climate to which she was 
unaccustomed, shrank from every exposure. She pined to 
revel once more, in the bland and balmy airs that sweep 
the fragrance from Hermon, and to be served with the 
courteous reserve, and graceful observances which she had 
enjoyed in the harem of Cairo. Her only hope of return- 
ing to her native land, was in the fulfilment of her hus- 
band's vow; but finding that her mild entreaties served 
only to irritate his imperious temper, she refrained to press 
the subject, and confined her anxieties to her own breast. 

While the lovely exotic was thus withering under the 
blighting influence of the uncongenial atmosphere of the 
north, Jean de Brienne visited the German court. Alarmed 
at Ills daughter's j)ale and wasted appearance, he regarded her 
with a tender sympathy, such as he had never before mani- 
fested towards her ; and the heart-broken queen poured- 
out her sorrows before him, and entreated him to take her 
back to Palestine. The sweet pensiveness so like the ex- 
pression of her mother's countenance, and which had al- 
ready become habitual to her youthful features touched a 



VIOLANTE. 835 

secret chord in his heart, and the thought that Frederic 
had squandered the wealth of her affection, and repulsed 
her winning caresses with coldness and contempt, roused 
his indignation. He expostulated with the monarch in no 
measured terras. The emperor admitted, that he had won 
the affections of Yiolante, by his apparent interest in the 
Holy Laud, and gained her hand b}^ a promise to restore 
to her, her rightful inheritance ; but he sneeringlj insinu- 
ated, that these courteous condescensions, were the fanciful 
gages staked by all lovers, which as husbands they were 
not bound to redeem. He laid down the proposition that 
oaths in religion, politics, and love were but means to an 
end, only binding, in so far as they accorded with the con- 
venience of those who made them. He cited examples of 
the clergy, with the pope at their head, who wedding the 
church, and professing to live alone for her interests, made 
her the means of their own aggrandizement, the pander of 
their base passions ; the jiolicy of kings, who, receiving the 
sceptre of dominion for the ostensible jjurpose, of securing 
peace and happiness to their subjects, pursued their own 
pleasure, without regard to civil commotion or discord ; 
and he illustrated his theory by multiplied instances in the 
domestic life of the sovereigns of Europe, who, for the 
gratification of personal pique, put away those whom they 
had promised to love and cherish to the end of life. Vio- 
lante listened to this discourse like one who for the first 
time comprehends the solution of a problem, that has long 
taxed the ingenuity and embarrassed the reason. His sen- 
timents explained the mystery in his manner, the discrep- 
ancy between his professions and performances, and like 
the spear of Ithuriel, dispelled at once the illusion of her 
fancy, and made him assume before her his own j)roper 
character. She fixed her large dark eyes upon his counte- 
nance, as though striving to recall the image she had wor- 
shipped there. She saw only the arrogant sneer of skepti- 
cism, and the smile of selfish exultation. Her sensitive 
heart recoiled with horror at the prospect of the cheerless 
future, which in one fearful moment passed like a vision 



836 HEROINES OF TUE CRUSADES. 

before her, and with a piercing cry she fell fainting to tho 
floor. The husband calmly summoned the maids as he 
left the apartment, while the father, with a heart distracted 
between pity and anger, tenderly lifted her lifeless form 
and conveyed her to a couch. 

Robert, the second son of Peter Courtenay and Yoland, 
succeeded his father upon the throne of Constantinople. 
An inglorious reign of seven years left the empire in a 
distracted state, and an early death transferred the crown 
to his infant son Baldwin. The barons of the Greek Em- 
pire felt the necessity of placing the sceptre in the hands 
of a man and a hero ; and messengers were despatched to 
the veteran King of Jerusalem, to beg him to accept the 
imperial purple, and become the father of the young prince, 
by bestowing upon him the hand of his second daughter in 
marriage. The position and authority of Jean de Brienne 
as the Emperor of Constantinople, gave him power to pun- 
ish Frederic's baseness, and he speedily signified to the 
emperor, that the might of his sword, backed by the 
strength of the Greek forces, was now ready to enforce the 
decrees of the pope. 

Frederic, finding that he could no longer with any safety 
defer his pilgrimage, ordered a general rendezvous of his 
troops at Brundusium preparatory for departure. Before 
however the appointed time for sailing had arrived, a pes- 
tilence broke out in the camp, numbers died and greater 
numbers deserted, and the emperor himself, after having 
embarked and remained at sea three days, returned, declar- 
ing that his health would not admit of his taking the voy- 
age. Exulting in the fortunate circumstance that had re- 
leased him from the dreaded exjiedition, he hastened his 
march to Germany. 

As he entered his palace, he was struck by the grave 
and serious manner with which his retainers, usually so en- 
thusiastic, received him. An ominous gloom reigned in the 
court, and as with lordly tread he passed through the long 
corridors, he felt that his step was breaking the silence of 
death. In the anteroom of the queen's apartment,, he found 



VIOLANTE. 837 

her maidens indulging in the utmost expressions of grief. 
The feehle wail of an infant smote upon his ear, and strid- 
ing through the hushed and darkened chamber, he sought 
the couch of the neglected Violante. That couch was a 
bier. Those li]3S, upon whose sportive accents he had hung 
with exquisite though momentary rapture, were forever 
dumb. Those features, that had kindled with a glow of 
love at his every word of tenderness, were now settled in 
their last calm repose. 

Poor Violante ! Thy pilgrimage was brief. The first 
sweet stage of childhood scarcely passed, Fancy led thy 
willing footsteps through the Elysian fields of Love, and 
robed the object of thy young afiections with a halo of 
purity and truth. — The life-long experience of woman — 
the indefinable slight and wrong that press home upon her, 
the bitter sense of utter helplessness and dependence, the 
inexplicable woe of the primeval curse, — crowded into the 
little span of a few short mouths, brought thee early to the 
sepulchre, — seventeen summers, and a winter whose rigor 
congealed the very fountain of thy life, — to hope, to love, to 
give thy life to another, and die. — Such is thy history, 
beautiful Yiolante, Queen of Jerusalem, Empress of Ger- 
many, Heroine of the Sixth Crusade. 

22 






J 

I 



ELEANORA. 



i| 



CHAPTER I. 

THE PARENTS OF EDWARD I. 

Of all the royal suitors that ever stooped to woo the love 
of woman, Henry III. son of John Lackland and Isabella 
of Angoul6me, appears to have been the most luckless and 
unfortunate. He first fixed his afiections upon the Princess 
of Scotland, who was dissuaded from listening to his suit, 
by her brother's assurance that the king was a squint-eyed 
fool, deceitful, perjured, more faint-hearted than a woman, 
and utterly unfit for the company of any fair and noble 
'ady. 

Disappointed in Scotland, the monarch next offered his 
hand to the heiress of Brittany, but the rugged Bretons, too 
well remembering the cruelty of his father, to their beloved 
Prince Arthur, returned a haughty refusal. 

He then proposed to confer the honor of his alliance upon 
a daughter of Austria, but the fair descendant of Leopold 
inherited all her grandfather's enmity to the princely house 
of Plantagenet, and rejected his addresses with disdain. 

The Duke of Bohemia, to whom he next applied, civilly 
answered that his child was already plighted to another, 
and it was not until Henry reached the mature age of thirty 
that he received a favorable i-esponse to his matrimonial 
proposal ; and when at last the marriage contract was 
signed between himself and Joanna, daughter of Alice of 
France, the roving affections of this royal Ccelebs were 
beguiled from their allegiance by the sweet strains of the 
youthful poetess of Provence. 

Eleanor la Belle, second daughter of Count Berenger, 
perhaps the youngest female writer on record, attracted the 



342 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

attention of the fickle King of England, by a poem which 
she composed on the conquest of Ireland. 

Dazzled by her genius and personal charms, Henry's 
vows to Joanna were forgotten, and his ambassadors re- 
ceived orders to break off the negotiations, while his oblig- 
ing counsellors recommended a union with the very lady 
he so ardently admired. 

His habitual covetousness intruded however into the 
courtship, and had well-nigh subjected him to a sixth dis- 
appointment. He intrusted his seneschal to demand twen- 
ty thousand marks as the dower of Eleanor, but privately 
empowering him to lessen the sum if necessary to fifteen, 
ten, seven, five or three thousand. He quite disgusted the 
haughty count her father, by his sordid bargaining, and 
at last wrote in great terror, to conclude the marriage forth- 
with, either with money or without, but at all events to se- 
cure the lady for him and conduct her safely to England 
without delay. 

In the splendid festivities with which Henry welcomed 
his young bride to London, and in the preparation of her 
coronation robes, he displayed a taste for lavish expend- 
iture altogether inconsistent with the state of his finances, 
and in ridiculous contrast to his former penuriousness. 

Like his father the greatest fop in Europe, but not like 
him content with the adornment of his own person, he issued 
the most liberal orders for apparelling the royal household 
in satin, velvet, cloth of gold and ermine, expending in the 
queen's jewelry alone a sum not less than one hundred and 
fifty thousand dollars. 

About the same time he bestowed his sister Isabella upon 
the Imperial widower Frederic II., and personally desig- 
nated every article of her sumptuous wardrobe. 
* It was on this occasion that he first learned how impera- 
tive a check a sturdy British Parliament may be on the 
lawless extravagance of a king ; for when he petitioned the 
Lords for a relief from his pecuniary difiiculties, they told 
him they had amply supplied funds both for his marriage 
and that of the empress, and as he had wasted the money 



ELEANOR A. 343 

he might defray the expeuses of his wedding as best he 
could. 

It would be difficult to say whether the king, the queen. 
or the royal relations, proved the greatest scourges to Brit- 
ain during the long and impotent reign of Henry HI. 

One of Eleanor's uncles became prime minister ; to an- 
other was given the rich Earldom of Warrenne, and a third 
was made Archbishop of Canterbury, and numerous young 
lady friends of the romantic queen were imported from 
Provence and married to the king's wealthy wards. 

Henry's mother, not content with sending over all her 
younger children to be provided for by the impoverished 
monarch, involved him in a war with Louis IX., which 
ended disastrously for the English arms, in the loss of a 
great part of the rich southern fiefs and the military chests 
and costly ornaments of the king's chapel. 

Henry's ambition for his children brought still greater 
difficulties upon the realm. His eldest son, Edward, was 
appointed viceroy of the disputed possessions in Aquitaine, 
and being too young to discharge his important trusts with 
discretion, so mismanaged affairs as greatly to increase the 
discontent of his father's French subjects. 

His eldest daughter Margaret, married to her cousin 
Alexander HI., the young King of Scotland, was taken 
prisoner by Sir John Baliol, and subjected to the most rig- 
orous confinement, thus making it necessary for Henry to 
undertake a Northern campaign for the rescue of his child. 

But his second son, Edmund, proved more expensive to 
the British nation, and innocently did more to project the 
civil war than any other member of the royal family ; for 
the pope, having conferred the crown of Sicily upon the 
young prince, the delighted father eagerly engaged in a 
prospective war, and promised to defray the whole expense 
of substantiating the claim. 

Again the barons resisted the onerous tax which this new 
attempt at family aggrandizement would impose upon 
them, and the first subsidy was raised from the benefices 
of the church only by the exercise of spiritual authority. 



344 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

"When the ambitious king had exhausted all his resources, 
the pontiff coolly transferred the coveted crown to Charles 
d'Anjou, brother to the King of France, leaving poor Henry 
to cancel his debt with the lords of exchequer as best he 
might, getting to himself in the eyes of his subjects little 
glory and great loss. 

Such was the character, the political and the social posi- 
tion of the parents of Edward L, who commenced about 
the middle of the thirteenth century to take an active part 
in the affairs of Europe. 

A splendid concourse were gathered in the spacious pal- 
ace of the old temple at Paris, a.d. 1254. The royal fami- 
lies of England and France were convened on terms of 
cordiality and kindness, such as they had never enjoyed 
since the day when ISTormandy was wrested from the de- 
scendants of Charlemagne. The banquet was given in 
honor of Edward, the heir-apparent of England, and his 
sweet young bride, Eleanora of Castile. In the place of 
honor sat the good St. Louis King of France, on his right, 
Henry HI. of England, and on his left, the King of Na- 
varre, the royal descendant of Thibaut of Champagne, and 
Blanche the sister of Berengaria. At this magnificent en- 
tertainment, Beatrice the Countess of Provence enjoyed a 
reunion with her beautiful daughters, their noble husbands 
and blooming offspring. The eldest, Margaret, was the 
wife of Louis IX., Eleanor, of Henry III., Beatrice, of 
Charles d'Anjou, and Sancha, of Richard of Cornwall, 
King of the Romans. 

But the queen of this Feast of kings, the fair young In- 
fanta, around whom were gathered the nobility of a Conti- 
nent, though but a child of scarce ten years, concentrated 
in herself more romantic associations and excited higher 
hopes than any of the crowned heads present. Her brother 
Alphonso X., the astronomer, was the most learned prince 
in Europe, and neither priest or peer could boast that devo- 
tion to the arts, or that success in scientific discoveries that 
characterized the King of Castile, surnamed 11 Sabio^ the 
wise. Her mother Joanna, had been the affianced bride of 
her royal father-in-law Henry III., had been rejected for 



ELEANURA. 345 

the more poetic daughter of the Count of Provence ; and 
her grandmother, Alice of France, had been refused by 
the gallant King Eichard, in favor of Berengaria of JS^a- 
varre. Her brother Alphonso, and her husband's uncle, 
Kichard of Cornwall, were candidates for the crown of the 
German Empire, in opposition to the rights of Conrad, son 
of Frederic and Yiolante, and her husband, a graceful youth 
of fifteen, who had received the honors of knighthood at his 
wedding tournament, was heir to the goodly realm of Eng- 
land and the beautiful provinces of Southern France. 

The tourney, the banquet, and the procession, had mark- 
ed their progress from Burgos, in Spain, to the Parisian 
court. At Bordeaux, King Henry expended 300,000 marks 
on their marriage feast, a sum, at that time so extravagant, 
that when I'eproached for it, he exclaimed in a dolorous 
tone, " Oh ! pour la tete de Dieu, say no more of it, lest 
men should stand amazed at the relation thereof." At 
Chartres, the palace once occupied by Count Stephen and 
Adela, Avas ornamented with the most brilliant decorations 
to honor their presence. St. Louis advanced to meet, and 
escort them to Paris. The cavalcade consisted of one 
thousand mounted knights in full armor, each with some 
lady by his side, upon a steed whose broidered housings 
rivalled the richness of the flowing habiliments of the fair 
rider, while a splendid train of carriages, sumpter mules, 
and grooms, and vassals completed the magnificent retinue. 

The nuptial festival with its usual accompaniments of 
hunting, hawking, and holiday sports, continued through 
eight days, and a brilliant cortege attended the bridal 
party to the coast of France, on their departure for Eng- 
land. The passage was rough and gloomy, and the fleet 
that conve^'ed Eleanora to her new home encountered a 
storm upon the Channel, and approached the harbor under 
the cover of a fog so dense, that the white clitfs of Dover 
were entirely veiled from sight. 

The child queen, terrified at the profound darkness, 
strove to silence lier own agonizing apprehensions, by re- 
peating those words of sacred writ, which she supposed 



346 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

exercised some mysterious influence upon the elements. 
Suddenly a terrible crash made the ship groan through all 
its timbers. Piercing shrieks from without told a tale of 
horrors, and the echoing screams within rendered it im- 
possible to ascertain the nature or extent of the danger. 
At length it was found, that the royal vessel had in the 
darkness encountered and sunk a small bark, supposed to 
be a fishing smack, that had been driven out to sea by the 
wind. 

Prince Edward immediately ordered the small boat to be 
lowered, and despite the entreaties of his parents and little 
bride, sprang into it, in hope of rescuing the perishing 
crew. 

Alarmed for his safety, Eleanora added to the anxieties 
of her parents, by hastening to the deck, where leaning 
from the vessel's side, she scanned with intensest gaze the 
narrow circle of waters illuminated by the lights of the 
ship. A brave sailor, buffeting the waves with powerful 
arm, escaped the eddies made by the sinking craft, and 
grasping the rope which was flung to his assistance, sprang 
up to the vessel's side. Another object soon after appeared 
rising and sinking upon the crest of the billow. Now it 
seemed but the sparkling foam, and now it lay white and 
motionless in the dark trough of the sea. At length it 
floated beyond the line of light, and seemed lost in the im- 
penetrable gloom, but not till the prince had fixed his eye 
upon it, and ordered his rowers to pull in the direction of 
its disappearance. One moment of agonizing suspense, 
and the heir of England again appeared nearing the vessel, 
carefully folding a motionless form in his arms ; the sailors 
plied the windlass, and the boat with its crew was safely 
received on board. 

Scarcely heeding the curious inquiries of those who 
gathered around him, the prince made his way to the cabin 
and deposited the precious burden upon a couch. The 
dripping coverings were spedil}^ removed, and delight, 
admiration, and pity, were instantly excited in the hearts 
of the spectators, at the sight of a lovely child, apparently 



ELEANORA. 347 

less than two years of age, Eleanora watched the resusci 
tation of the little stranger, with anxious tenderness. Shi 
chafed its dimpled hands in her own, and strove to recal, 
animation by soft kisses and gentle caresses. As vital 
warmth gradually returned, and the faint hue of life glow- 
ed on the pallid cheek, the suffering one opened her blu' 
eyes, and whispering some indistinct words, among whic 
they could distinguish only "Eva," sank again into unco; 
sciousness. 

The clothing of the little foundling was such as indicat 
rank and wealth, and a bracelet of Eastern manufacture, 
elapsed upon her tiny arm, excited much wonder and cur; 
osity among the queens and their attendants. The prince 
had found the infant lashed to an oar with a scarf of e. 
quisite embroidery. There seemed to be also an armorial 
design upon it, but the green shamrock, with a rose of 
Sharon, was a device which none present could decipher 
The rescued sailor stated that the lost ship was a coasting 
vessel, and that, in an Irish harbor, they had taken on 
board a lady and child ; but, as he bad only seen them at 
the time of their embarkation, he could give no farther ac 
count of them. 

The partiality which Eleanora manifested to the orphan, 
thus suddenly bereft of every friend, gained for it a home 
in the bosom of the royal family, and at the castle of Guil- 
ford, vs^here her father-in-law established her with much 
state, she passed many pleasant hours in the care of her 
tender charge. The little Eva added to her infantile charms 
a disposition of invincible sweetness, relieved by a sportive 
wilfulness that elicited a constant interest, not unmixed 
with anxiety, lest a heart so warm might become a prey to 
influences against which no caution or admonition could 
shield her. She could give no account of her parentage or 
home ; but sometimes spoke of her mamma, and birds and 
flowers, as though her childish memory retained associa- 
tions that linked her thoughts with pleasant walks and ten- 
der care. Her perceptions were exceedingly quick, but 
her best resolutions were often evanescent, and she lacked 



348 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

a steadiness of puq^ose in the pursuit of tlie studies to which 
Eleanora invited her attention. An appeal to her lieart 
never failed to induce immediate repentance for any fault, 
and she was altogether the most winning, but vexatious pu- 
pil, that ever engaged the afiections of a queen. But the 
accomplishments of Eleanora herself were not complete, 
and in 1256 she was again conveyed to Bordeaux, for the 
purpose of receiving instruction from masters better quali- 
fied to conduct her education. At her earnest request, Eva 
was permitted to accompany her. 

Her young husband was meanwhile engaged perfecting 
himself in every knightly accomplishment, " haunting 
tournaments," and carrying off the prizes from all competi- 
tors, with a skill and grace that gave him a renown, not in- 
ferior to that of his great uncle Richard Cosur de Lion. 
At Paris, he formed an intimacy with the Sire de Joinville, 
companion of St. Louis in the seventh crusade, and he lis- 
tened to the account of afl'airs in the East with an interest 
that inflamed his young and ardent imagination. Tlie 
Lord de Joinville, high seneschal of Champagne, was one 
of the most erudite and aiFable nobles of the thirteenth 
century, and it was an agreeable occupation fur the expe- 
rienced soldier, to enlighten the mind of the young prince 
with an account of the customs and manners ot" tlie East, 
and the state of the Latin kingdom in Jerusalem, which 
had so much influenced the politics of Europe. 

After the return of Frederic, Gregory IX. excommuni- 
cated him for declining to combat the enemy of God ; but 
so long had been the contest between the emperor and the 
pontiff", and so divided were the minds of men upon tlie 
rights (»f the cause, that the clergy published the sentence 
with many explanatory clauses, that greatly modified its 
effect. A curd at Paris, instead .of reading the bull from 
the pulpit in the usual form, said to his parishioners, "You 
know, my brethren, that I am ordered to fulminate an ex- 
communication ajxainst Frederic. I know nut the motive. 
All that I knuw is, that there has been a quarrel between 
that prince and the pope. God aUtne knows who is ri£i;ht. 



ELEANORA. 349 

1 excommunicate him who has injured the other ; and I 
absolve the sufferer." 

Frederic, in revenge, employed his Saracen troops, of 
which he commanded not a few, in southern Italy, to ravage 
the dominions of the church, and convinced all his subjects 
of the wisdom of his former refusals, by taxing them heavi- 
ly for the expenses of the expedition on which he determin- 
ed to embark. Finding that Frederic was thus placing 
himself in a posture to enlist the sympathies of Christen- 
dom, the pope prohibited his undertaking the Holy War till 
he should be relieved from ecclesiastical censure. The em- 
peror notwithstanding sailed directly for Acre, and was 
received with great joy by the Christians. The next ships 
from Europe brought letters from the pontiff to the patri- 
arch, repeating the sentence of excommunication, forbid- 
ding the Templars and Hospitallers to fight under the ban- 
ner of the son of perdition. 

In this state of embarrassment, Frederic found his mili- 
tary operations limited to the suburbs of Acre ; and dwell- 
ing in the j)alace, and gazing on the scenes which Yiolante 
had so often and so eloquently portrayed, his mind revert- 
ed, with a touch of remorseful tenderness, to the enthusi- 
asm with which she had anticipated a return to her eastern 
home. The rapture with which she had dwelt upon the 
virtues of the Empress Elsiebede, and her noble son Melech 
Camel, inspired him with the thought that he might avail 
himself of the generous friendship entertained for his much 
injured wife, to further his own plans in Palestine. Acting 
upon this selfish policy, he opened negotiations with the 
Sultan of Egypt, now heir to all Saphadin's dominions by 
the death of Cohr-Eddin. The Saracen emperor lent a 
gracious ear to the overtures of the successor of Jean de 
Brienne, and a truce of ten years was concluded between 
the belligerent powers, 

Jerusalem, Joppa, Bethlehem and Nazareth, with their 
appendages, were restored to the Latins. The Holy Sepul- 
chre was also ceded, and both Christians and Mussulmans, 
were guaranteed the riglit to worship in the sacred edifice, 



850 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

known to the former as the temple of Solomon, and to the 
latter as the mosque of Omar. The Emperor repaired to 
Jerusalem, but no hosannahs welcomed his approach. The 
patriarch forbade the celebration of all religious ceremonies 
during his stay, and no prelate could be induced to place 
upon his brow accursed, the crown of Godfrey of Boulogne. 
Frederic, notwithstanding, advanced to the church of the 
Sepulchre, took the crown from the altar, placed it upon 
his own head, and then listened with great apparent satis- 
faction, to a laudatory oration, pronounced by one of his 
German followers. Thus the memory of the gentle and 
loving Violante, more powerful than the heroic frenzy of 
King Richard, or the misguided devotion of the military 
orders, established the kingdom of Palestine, once more 
upon a firm basis, and gave the sceptre into the hands of 
one able to defend its rights. 



CHAPTER II. 

DE JOmVILLE'S STORY OF THE SEVENTH CRUSADE. 

These particulars de Joinville faithfully narrated, at 
various times, to Prince Edward, who was an indefatigable 
listener to whatever pertained to feats of chivalry and 
arms. — But he dwelt with far greater circumlocution and 
precision upon the events of the Seventh Crusade, in which 
he was personally engaged with Louis IX. 

" You must know, gracious prince," said the good knight, 
in the quaint language of the times, " that though the 
Christians in Asia had possession of the holy j^laces, by the 
treaty with Melech Camel, the mildew of discord continu- 
ally blighted all their plans for the improvement of the 
state, and as soon as the truce had expired, the Saracens 
again fell upon them in their weakened condition, and 
slaughtered great multitudes of pilgrims. For this cause 



ELEANORA. 851 

it was, that Gregory IX. called again upon the devout 
children of the church, to take arms against the Infidels." 

" I remember," replied Edward, " the departure of my 
uncle Richard of Cornwall, and the valiant Longsword, 
with their knights, and retainers for Palestine, and I have 
heard that his very name was a terror to the Saracens, in- 
asmuch as they mistook him for the great Richard Coeur 
de Lion. God willing. Sire de Joinville, the name of Ed- 
ward shall one day, frighten his enemies as well." 

To this De Joinville gravely replied, " Thou wouldst do 
well to remember that which the good King Louis said, 
when, to secure the tranquillity of his subjects, he relin- 
quished so great a portion of his territory to thy royal sire : 
I would rather be like our Lord, who giveth freely to all, 
than like the conquerors of the earth who have made to 
themselves enemies in grasj^ing the rights of others !" 

" In sooth," replied Edward, " the sentiment savoreth 
more of the saint than of the king," a little piqued that his 
ambitious tendencies elicited no warmer approbation. 

" And yet," returned de Joinville, " King Louis is the 
greatest monarch in Europe, and often by his wise counsel 
accommodates those differences which involve other coun- 
tries in bloodshed. He has, thou knowest well, already 
composed the dissensions between thy father and his 
haughty brother-in-law. Earl Leicester." 

" Aye, verily," returned Edward, his eyes flashing with 
the presentiment of vengeance, " this good sword shall one 
day teach the misproud earl better manners. — Had my 
father less of those meek virtues which thou j)rizest so 
highly, he would never have ratified the statutes of Oxford, 
and made England the prey of Simon de Montfort's ra- 
pacity." 

"The poor inhabitants of Albi and Carcassonne, albeit 
many of them, 1 fear me, were miserable heretics, teach 
their children to curse the name even more bitterly," an- 
swered de Joinville, "than thou dost." 

" He who slaughters women and children," answered 
Edward, with proud disdain, "even though it be by the 



352 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

commands of the chm-ch, stains his fair fame more deeply 
than his sword. To my poor wit it seems good sire, that 
this crusade against om* own vassals in happy France, bears 
a hue far different from the wars in Palestine." 

" So thought my good lord," returned de Joinville, " for 
though his soul loveth peace, his conscience was often un- 
quiet with the thought of the sufferings of the Christians, 
who, pressed by the Turks, cried out for aid, and yet he 
knew not how he might leave his people for a foreign war. 
At length his doubts were resolved on this wise. — Being 
grievously ill at Paris, his soul as it were departed from his 
body. He saw standing before him Count Paimond of 
Toulouse, who, being in the torment of purgatory, cried 
out, ' Oh ! that I had employed my peojDle in chasing the 
children of Satan from the Holy Land, then would they 
not have had leisure to have devised those heresies by 
which they have destroyed both their souls and bodies in 
hell.' When the soul of the king returned, he heard those 
who had nursed him speaking together, and one would 
have covered his face with a cloth, thinking that all was 
over, but another (so God willed it) declared continually 
that he was alive. Then he opened his eje& and looked 
upon them, and he desired one of them to bring him the 
crucifix, and he swore upon it that if God should please 
restore him to health, he would, in person, undertake the 
Holy War, In like manner as the king put on the cross, 
so did his three brothers, Robert, Count d' Artois, Alphonzo, 
Count de Poitiers, and Charles, Count d' Anjou, the vene- 
rable Hugh le Brun, Count le Marche and his sons, with 
many others of rank and dignity, and many lords whom 
Simon de Montfort had deprived of their patrimony in 
Languedoc, and many others who had fought against the 
heretics. Thus did the pious king make the Holy War the 
means of expiation and of universal reconcilement. But 
so wise was he withal, and so careful of his people, that ho 
thought also to make the expedition the foundation of a 
great colony in Egj^pt. Thus many of the transports were 
laden with spades, pitch-forks, plows, and other implements 



ELEANORA. 853 

for the tilling of the ground, together witli seeds of various 
kinds, for the better prospering of the new state. You 
must know, before the king left the realm, he summoned 
all the barons to Paris, and there made them renew their 
homage and swear loj'alty to his children, should any un- 
fortunate event happen to himself during this expedition. 

" Magnificent dresses were on this occasion bestowed upon 
all the courtiers, and the next day the cavaliers were sur- 
prised to find, that to eveiy cloak a splendid gold cross had 
been affixed by the art of the goldsmith, thereby intimating 
the king's desire that they should join him in the Crusade. 

" It was in the month of August that we embarked at 
the rock Marseilles, and the priest and clerks standing 
round the king, sang the beautiful hymn, ' Veni Creator,' 
from the beginning to the end. While they were singing, 
the mariners set their sails in the name of God, and soon, 
with a favorable wind, the coast disappeared from our 
view, and we saw nothing but the sea and sky. We landed 
first at Cyprus, where we made a long stay, waiting for 
Count Alphonzo, who headed the reserve. Here ambassa- 
dors from all nations came to pay their court to the French 
monarch. The great Chan of Tartary paid him many fine 
compliments, and bade his servants say that their master 
was ready to assist him in delivering Jerusalem from the 
hands of the Saracens. The King of France sent likewise 
to the Chan a tent, in the form of a chapel, of fine scarlet 
cloth, embroidered on the inside with the mysteries of our 
faith. Two black monks had charge of it, and were also 
instructed to exhort the Tartars, and show them how they 
ought to put their belief in God," 

" Are not the Tartars of the same race as the Turks ?" 
inquired Edward, with great curiosity. 

" I understand riot well the genealogy of the j^eople of the 
East," replied de Joinville, " but I consider Tartary as a 
general name for a vast country, whence have issued, at 
various times, certain tribes called Scythians, Hungarians, 
Turks, and Mongols, which have overrun the fertile prov- 
inces that skirt the Mediterranean." 

23 



354 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

The prince, feeling greatlj enlightened at this compre- 
hensive answer, listened respectfully while de Joinville 
resumed. "There came also ambassadors from the Chris- 
tians of Constantinople, Armenia and Syria. Envoys like- 
wise from the ' Old Man of the Mountain,' of whom there 
runs so many strange stories. King Louis also formed a 
league with the leader of the Mongols against the two 
great popes of Islamism, the Sultans of Cairo and Bagdad. 
From Cyprus we sailed to Damietta, which King Louis at- 
tacked sword in hand. The Infidels, by the favor of God, 
were put to the worse, and the city fell into our hands. We 
found great sjjoil in Damietta, and were comfortably lodged 
there. But the king's officers, instead of well-treating the 
merchants, who would have supplied the army with pro- 
visions, hired out to them stalls and workmen, at so dear a 
rate, that they departed from us, which was a great evil 
and loss. Barons and knights began to give sumptuous 
banquets, one to the other; the commonalty also gave 
themselves up to all kinds of dissipation, which lasted until 
the day we set forward toward Cairo, on the route formerly 
travelled by Jean de Brienne. We were stopped at Man- 
sourah many days by a branch of the Nile, where it was 
necessary to construct a dyke, and there they assailed us 
with the Greek fire, by which we were in great danger of 
perishing. This fire was in appearance like a great tun, 
and its tail was of the length of a long spear, and the noise 
which it made was like thunder, and it seemed a great 
dragon of fire flying through the air, giving such light by 
its flame, that we saw in our camp as clearly as in broad 
day ; and when it fell upon a knight in armor, it penetrated 
through the scales thereof, and burned to the very bone. 
Thus our army suftered greatly, and were prevented from 
making farther progress. 

" The king called his barons to council, and it was con- 
cluded to return to Damietta. But so many of our army 
had fallen sick, that it was necessary to make preparations 
to embark upon the Nile. The king himself suflered great- 
ly with the pestilence, and our march was stopped by the 



ELEANORA. 355 

Saracens, who laj in wait for us upon the banks of the 
river, and as the prince would not desert his people, we 
were all made prisoners together. After we had suffered 
many things, both in body and spirit, the Sultan, who had 
been recently elected by the Mamelukes, agreed to accept 
as ransom for the captives, the city of Damietta and the sum 
of 500,000 livres. When the Sultan found that King Louis 
complied with the first demand without striving to drive a 
bargain, ' Go and tell him from me,' he said, ' that I retract 
one-fifth of the sum, because I have found him both gen- 
erous and liberal.' 

" After the affair was concluded, my royal master em- 
powered me to accompany the envoys to Damietta, and to 
receive from Queen Margaret the money for the ransom. 
When I came to the palace where the queen was lodged, I 
found her apartment guarded by an aged knight, whom, 
when she heard of her royal husband's captivity, she had 
caused to take oath that, should the Saracens enter the 
town, he would himself put an end to her life before they 
could seize her person. My royal mistress received me 
graciously, and gave me the money which the king had com- 
manded, and she also bade me look upon the son she had 
borne to Louis during his absence, that I might assure him 
of their health and comfort. The misfortunes that had at- 
tended our arms caused us to quit Egypt ; and, sailing at 
once for Acre, we were received with great joy by the 
Christians of the East. We employed ourselves in restoring 
the fortifications of the principal towns, but the monarch, 
through dejection at the failure of his enterprise, returned 
to France without making a pilgrimage to the holy places." 

" By my faith," replied the young prince, " it were a 
matter of surprise that such well-appointed- expeditions 
should suffer such total loss. Methinks a good soldier 
should never sheathe his sword till the hour of victory." 

De Joinville regarded the inexperienced youth with a 
benevolent smile, remarking only, that caution and pru- 
dence are virtues as essential to a ruler, as courage and 
prowess. 



356 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

CHAPTER III. 

THE RELICS BROUGHT FROM CONSTANTINOPLE. 

The young bride Eleanora, in her residence at Bordeaux, 
had formed the acquaintance of Guy de Lusignan, second 
son of the ex-queen Isabella and Count Hugh le Marche, 
and through his kindly attentions she had been apprized 
of the events that agitated England. She learned that her 
royal parents had been under the necessity of taking up 
their residence in the Tower of London, almost in the con- 
dition of state prisoners, and that her gallant husband had 
exchanged the sports of a knight for " the game of kings." 
Anxious for his safety, and desirous to assist in the release 
of the royal family, or share their captivity, she besought 
Count Guy to conduct her thither. He represented the 
danger of such a proceeding, and strove by every argu- 
ment to induce her to remain in France, but in vain. The 
traits of character, that subsequently made her the heroine^ 
already developed in unchanging affection, and invincible 
firmness, overbore all opposition, and with a retinue scarce- 
ly suitable for her rank, and insufficient for her protection 
in case of attack, she set off for England. 

They reached the island without accident, and had ap- 
proached in sight of London, when the great bell of St. 
Paul's startled them with its hurried peal, and they almost 
instantly found themselves surrounded by an infuriated 
mob. The simplicity of their attire shielded them from 
observation, and they passed some time unmolested among 
the crowd, but the vindictive shouts of the multitude, cry- 
ing, " Down with the Jews ! down with the followers of the 
virago of Provence !" so alarmed the little Eva, that she 
was unable to keep her seat upon the pillion of the knight 
who had her in charge, and Sir Guy at length obtained 
for them a shelter in an humble tenement upon the banks 
of the Thames. 



ELEANORA. 357 

From the window of the cottage, they beheld the terri- 
ble massacre that characterized the first popular outbreak 
against the government of Henry III. The harmless Jews 
were dragged from their houses and mercilessly slaughter- 
ed, amidst protestations of innocence, and heart-rending 
cries for pity, while the furniture of their dwellings, and 
valuables of every kind, were hurled into the streets, and 
distributed among the crowd. A venerable man, Ben 
Abraham, of majestic demeanor, was pursued to the door 
of the house in which the royal fugitives had taken refuge. 

Count Guy in his agitation sprang to bar the entrance, 
but the young queen with readier tact removed the bolt, 
and throwing open an opposite door, motioned all the armed 
retainers to retire. Scarcely had the helpless old man 
crossed the threshold, when the mob with demoniac cries, 
rushed in after him, and the leader seizing him by his long 
white beard, severed his head from his body, and held it 
up a grim and ghastly spectacle for the plaudits of his 
followers. The terrified Eva, clinging close to Eleanora, 
shrunk behind the open door, and the queen controlling 
her own agitation, placed her hand over the child's mouth 
to repress her screams, while the murderers dragging the 
bleeding corpse upon the pavement, began to search the 
body for gold. Down the street rolled the tide of blood. 
Mad yells of vengeance and frantic cries of terror mingled 
on the air, and swept away toward the river. 

Now the roar seemed advancing and now retreating, 
when a barge loosing from the tower stairs, drew the con- 
course in that direction. It was the Queen of Henry III. 
with her children, seeking to escape to Windsor castle, 
where Prince Edward was quartered with his troops. 
Cries of " Drown the Witch ! Down with the Witch ! No 
favor to foreigners ! Death to the Italians !" rent the 
air. The mob tore up the paving stones, stripped the tiles 
from the houses, plundered butchers' shambles, and huck- 
sters' shops, and a shower of deadly missiles rained upon 
the river. The boat approached the bridge, at the west end 
of which thousands of fierce eyes glared for its appearance, 



858 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

and thousands of bloody hands were raised for its destruc 
tion. At this moment the figure of an armed knight, of 
lofty stature, appeared upon the bridge. Forcing his way 
through the mob, he shouted to the sailors as the boat was 
about to shoot the arch, "Back! Bear back!! upon your 
lives ! ! ! Return to the tower ! ! ! !" The frightened boat- 
men turned at the critical moment, and the knight, by the 
prowess of his single arm, diverted the attack to himself, 
till the queen was again sheltered by the walls of the for- 
tress. 

Roar upon roar again swelled through the streets. The 
crowd hurried on in search of prey, swaying to and fro, 
like trees in a temiDcst. Again the feeble walls that shel- 
tered the fair Castilian, felt the terrible presence of demons 
in human form. The sight of a French attendant again 
raised the cry of " Death to foreigners," and madly they 
rushed to the onslaught. But the strange knight was al- 
ready at the door, and backed by Guy de Lusignan and 
the retainers, for some hours kept the infuriated multitude 
at bay, but at every moment the crowd became denser, the 
cries more terrific, and Eleanora drawing the little Eva to 
her bosom, and surrounded by her own maidens, and the 
females of the household, was striving to recall the prayers 
for the dying, when a distant shout of rescue swelled 
upon the breeze. The shrill blast of a trumpet confirmed 
the uncertain hope, and the defiant threats of the multi- 
tude began to give place to the bowlings of baflBed rage. 
On came the tramp of horsemen, the clangor of armor ; 
louder roared the din of the fight ; not now the sounds of fall- 
ing dwellings, flying missiles, and female shrieks, but the 
ringing clash of Damascus steel, and the regular tramp of 
mounted horsemen. The warlike shout of " Edward to 
the rescue," " Give way to the prince," drove on the mot- 
ley mass like sands before the desert wind, and scattered 
them through all the lanes and alleys of the vast metrop- 
olis. At the sound of her husband's name, Eleanora sprang 
from her knees and rushed to the door-way, where she be- 
held, advancing at the head of the troops, tallei- than all 



ELEANORA. 359 

his compeers, more firmly seated upon his noble destriar, 
and more gracefully managing tue -c:p and wielding the 
sword, her long-absent lord. He raised his vizor, as he 
paused to return the salutation of his uncle, De Lusignan, 
and his fine, manly features, radiant with pleasure, and 
flushed with triumph, his fair hair curling round his helmet, 
made him appear to Eleanora, more brave and beautiful 
than a hero of romance. But the eye that " kindled in war, 
now melted in love" at the unexpected apparition of his 
bride, who with tearful eyes gazed upon him, uncertain 
whether her presence would more embarrass or pleasure him. 
It was not, however, in the heart of a chivalric prince to 
frown upon any distressed damsel, much less upon the 
beautiful young being, whose fair face, the sensitive index 
of every emotion, now paled with fear, now flushed with 
joy, seemed each moment changing to a lovelier hue, while 
she awaited his approach in doubt as to the greeting she 
should receive from her lord. The generous prince hastily 
dismounting, and clasping her in his arms, tenderly reas- 
sured her with words of affectionate welcome, not however, 
without a gentle upbraiding, that she had not tarried at 
Dover till he had been able, with a retinue befitting her 
rank, himself to escort her to Windsor. The little Eva, 
meanwhile, had found a safe asylum in the arms of the 
stranger knight, and, through the bars of his vizor, obtained 
a glimpse of eyes, whose color and expression she never 
forgot, and listened to words that made a lasting impression 
upon her mind. 

Prince Edward found it necessary to establish his mother 
and queen, with the ladies and attendants, under a strong 
guard, at Bristol castle, where they remained during a part 
of that stormy period, consequent upon Leicester's rebel- 
lion. Restricted to the narrow enjoyments which the castle 
walls afibrded, and to the society of the few knights who 
had them in charge, the royal ladies found their chief en- 
tertainment in the volatile spirits, and restless gaiety of 
the orphan Eva. No caution nor command could prevent 
her mingling with the dependents, and listening to and 



360 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

relating to her mistress every flying report that reached 
the castle. But s^ j^eiiric was her temper, and so ready 
her submission, that it was impossible to be seriously of- 
fended with her, and her light footsteps and joyous laugh 
were equally welcome in the royal apartments, and in the 
servants' kitchen. The maids of honor, who were the most 
frequent victims of her pranks, surnamed her, " Dame 
Madcap," while her cordial interest in inferiors caused the 
retainers to dub her with the equally appropriate soubri- 
quet of " Little Sunbeam." 

One day, the Princess Eleanora, passing the hall of audi- 
ence, was surprised by hearing shouts of irrepressible 
laughter. Suspecting that her protegee was engaged in 
some frolic, she cautiously opened the door and stood an 
unobserved spectator. Every piece of furniture capable 
of being moved, had been torn from its mooring, and 
placed in some fantastic position. The arras had been 
stripped from the walls, and hung in grotesque festoons at 
the farther extremity of the room, above and around a 
throne, ornamented with every article of embroidered vel- 
vet and silk brocade, that the royal wardrobe afforded, on 
which was seated her Madcap majesty, bedecked and be- 
dizened with all sorts of holiday finery, while every maid 
and retainer, not on duty, was passing before her, and re- 
peating the oath of fealty in giggling succession. The fair 
queen, meanwhile, diversified her state duties by lecturing 
her new subjects upon the indecorum of such ill-timed 
levity. The princess, in doubt what notice to take of the 
affair, prudently withdrew, but not till Eva had caught sight 
of her retreating figure, whereon, she assured her vassals, 
that they had all been guilty of high treason, and that, no 
doubt, the Don Jon, or some other Spanish cavalier would 
soon have them in close l^eeping. 

When Eva again appeared in the presence of the prin- 
cess, she fell on her kne^s and begged pardon with an air 
of mock humility that changed Eleanora's frowns to smiles 
in spite of herself, though she felt it necessary to remon- 
strate with her upon the oft- reiterated subject of herundig- 



ELEANORA. 361 

nified fajniliaritj with dependents, " I was but acting the 
queen, your majesty, and would be ghid of more exalted 
subjects," said she, archly, in extenuation of her fault. 
" Royalt}^ is but a jDageant, and I shall doubtless exercise 
the prerogative of a sovereign, when it is proved that the 
wicked little Eva de la Mer is heiress of the gallant Strong- 
bow." 

" Thou, Queen of Ireland I" exclaimed Eleanora. " Who 
has put this foolish conceit into thy young head ? Thou 
must beware, sweet one, of these odd fancies. Remember- 
est thou not the words of the confessor, that the pomps and 
vanities of the world lead the soul astray ?" 

Tears filled the blue eyes of Eva, but instantly dashing 
them away with spirit, she exclaimed, " And why not I a 
queen ! 'Tis sure I would be a better sovereign than most. 
They should not say as they do of our liege. King Henry, 
that I robbed my subjects to make presents to my favor- 
ites." 

" Eva, Eva," gravely rejoined the princess, " the Scrip- 
ture saith we should not speak evil of dignities." But Eva 
was in the vein, and her volubility was not to be silenced. 

"I would not be a queen," exclaimed she, "for then I 
should have none to love me or to tell me the truth." 

" None to love thee !" replied Eleanora. " Do not the 
people love her gracious majesty, my royal mother?" 

" Thou shouldst hear what all men say of her," exclaim- 
ed the child, almost frightened at her own audacity. 

"And what do men say?" inquired Eleanora, her curi- 
osity getting the better of her judgment. 

" They say," continued Eva, " that all the troubles in 
England are owing to the queen and her relations. That 
King Henry took the marriage portion of his sister Isabella 
to furnish the decorations for the coronation ; and thou 
knowest well, my lady, that she hath nine garlands for her 
hair, besides a great gold crown most glorious with gems." 

" In sooth," returned the princess, " thou knowest more 
than I of the queen's wardrobe. But how learnedst thou 
these things ?" 



362 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

'' Her maidens, who love her none too well, tell me eveiy- 
thing." 

" And dost thou encourage them in evil speaking of 
their mistress, by listening to their idle tales ?" 

" Nay, I told them they were sinners, and that the father 
of evil would surely get them ; but they only laughed, and 
said, in that case, I should certainly bear them company." 

Eleanora, looking gravely, said, " I fear my darling is 
learning sad ways, and I must henceforth keep her always 
by my side." 

Eva threw her arms around the princess, and pillowing 
her fair cheek upon her bosom, whispered, " Let not my 
noble mistress omit this punishment, for in her presence 'tis 
easy to be good." There was a pause of some minutes, 
when the child gently resumed, " My lady will one day 
be a queen, shall Eva then speak only the words of adula- 
tion, such as the false dames d'honneur employ in the pres- 
ence of her majesty ? 1 heard them whispering low con- 
cerning the queen's gold, and the extortions and exactions 
she had brought upon the people, and when she inquired 
what they whispered, they turned it with some fine com- 
pliment. I sought to tell her of the falsehood, but the 
ladies would not give me entrance to her apartment. I 
will tell thee, for thou art wise and mayest perchance warn 
her of her false friends. What first caught my ear was the 
name of my lord. Prince Edward. They said that when 
he was a lad of eight years, his royal father brought him 
forth with his brother Edmund and his sisters Margaret and 
Beatrice, and had them all weighed up like the calves at 
the butchers, and then scattered their weight in coin among 
the ragged beggar children that stood in the court below, 
laughing at the screams of the royal babies." 

" Eva ! Eva ! How couldst thou listen to such vain par- 
lance ?" 

" Oh ! my lady, this is not the half of the vile things they 
told. They said that when the king had ojjpressed the 
people till he could wring no more money from them, he 
broke up his court, and then, to avoid the expense of keep- 



ELEANORA. 363 

ing Lis family, he invited himself with his retinue to the 
castles of the nobles, and after being feasted right royally, 
he begged gifts at his de{)artnre, telling tliem it was a great- 
er charity to bestow alms npon him than n^jon any beggar 
in the realm." 

"Eva ! darling ! no more of this," said Eleanora, in a de- 
cided tone. " I will give thee for thy penance three pater- 
nosters and a creed. Repair to my oriel, and let me hear 
thee prate no more." 

Era received so much spiritual benefit from her devotions 
in the oratory, that the next day she was permitted to go 
where she pleased, and her first works of supererogation 
were distributed among those who had participated in her 
oflfence. Accordingly, the princess found her robed in the 
chaplain's gown, and receiving the confessions of those who 
had assisted at her coronation the previous day, in which 
capacity she exhibited a wonderful facility in prompting 
treacherous memories and callous consciences. In the 
midst of the scene, a sharp blast from the warder's horn 
startled the merry group. In times of public calamity, 
every unexpected event seems fraught with a fearful in- 
terest. Each vassal hurried to his post, and the females 
hastened away, while Eva, dropping her sacred character, 
ran with all speed to reconnoitre from the arrow-slit of the 
turret. The portcullis was raised, the sound of hoofs was 
heard upon the drawbridge, and the next moment a mes- 
senger, toil-worn and travel-stained, dashed into the court. 
The tidings which he brought were of the most important 
character. King Henry, apparently on the most friendly 
terms with Leicester, was, in reality, a prisoner in his castle, 
and subject to th^ will of the earl. Prince Edward, was 
rapidly preparing for war M'ith the rebel barons, and, deem- 
ing the royal ladies unsafe in England, had sent to bid them 
haste with all speed to the court of the good King of France. 
Straining her eyes to command a view beyond the castle 
walls, Eva discerned a band of huntsmen lingering in the 
skirts of an adjoining wood, but in the bustle of departure, 



S64 HKROIXES OF THE CRUSADES. 

she could not find opportunity to communicate the suspi- 
cious circumstance to any in authority. 

Apparelled in the utmost haste, the parties set forth, and 
slacked not their riding till they reached the port. There 
seemed to be a great crowd in the vicinity, of sailors, boat- 
men, clowns, in cartmen's frocks, and occasionally a man 
in armor. Eva fancied that she discerned among them the 
huntsmen of the wood, and her fears were confirmed when 
a moment after the royal train were completely environed 
by the band. But so adroitly was the manoeuvre effected, 
that the fugitives had scarcely time to feel themselves pris- 
oners, when a troop of Leicester's men appeared in the dis- 
tance, and they comprehended that, but for the timely in- 
terposition of these unknown friends, their retreat would 
have been cut off. As the vessel receded from shore, 
swords were drawn, and a fierce contest ensued between 
the huntsmen and the soldiers, and Eva recognized in the 
leader of their defenders the figure of the tall knight who 
had rescued them at London bridge. 

At the court of Queen Margaret, the exiled princesses re- 
ceived a cordial welcome, and the piety of Eleanora was 
strengthened by intercourse with the good St. Louis : while 
Eva's vivacity soon made her a favorite with the ladies of 
the French court. The unaffected piety of the saintly mon- 
arch was scarcely a fit subject for the humor which Eva 
exercised without discrimination, upon the grave and gay. 
But many of the superstitious observances of the church, 
ridiculous in themselves, excited her native merriment; 
nor could all the penances of the confessor restrict the 
playful license of her tongue. 

The Latin dynasty of Constantinople was now tottering 
to its fall. The young Greek'emperor Baldwin, deprived 
of the counsels of his father-in-law, Jean de Brienne (who_ 
had taken the habit of St. Francis, and died on a pilgrim- 
age to Jerusalem), was exposed to the attacks of every dis- 
afiected noble that chose to rebel against him. He had 
made every possible concession to avoid open warfare with 
Uis enemieSj and had suffered every conceivable inconve- 



ELEANOKA. 365 

nience from utter poverty. He had given his niece in mar- 
riage to a Turkish emir, and ratified a treaty with a haughty 
pagan by tasting his blood. He demolished vacant houses 
in Constantinople for winter fuel, stripped the lead from 
the churches for the daily expense of his family ; mort- 
gaged his father's estates in France to increase the public 
revenue ; and pawned the heir of the purple at Venice, as 
security for a debt. One only treasure yet remained, the 
Holy Crown of Thorns; but piety forbade him to make 
merchandise of that which all Christendom regarded with 
such superstitious veneration. It was therefore determined 
to present the precious bauble to the most honorable prince 
in Europe, and rely upon his pious gratitude to make suit- 
able return. A wooden box conveyed the inestimable 
relic to France. It was opened in the presence of the no- 
bility, discovering within a silver shrine in which was j^re- 
served the monument of the Passion, enclosed in a golden 
vase. St. Louis, with all his court, made a pilgrimage to 
Troyes, to receive the precious deposit. And the devout 
monarch, barefoot, and without other clothing than a 
simple tunic, carried it in triumph through the streets of 
Paris, and placed it in La Sainte Chapelle, which he pre- 
pared for the purpose. This solemn ceremony roused all 
the mirthfulness of Eva, nor could the habitual reverence 
of Eleanora so far prevail over her good sense, as to pre- 
vent some slight misgivings concerning the authenticity of 
the various and multiplied relics that then formed so lucra- 
tive a branch of commerce. 

" I warrant me," said the madcaj), Eva, to the maidens, 
" we shall all of us be compelled to kneel upon the cold 
pavement before that prickly emblem, as a punishment for 
our many transgressions." Shocked at her impiety, yet in- 
wardly amused, the merry party mingled their reproaches 
with encouraging peals of laughter. 

" No doubt," continued she, "it will cure all diseases, at 
least it has humbled the holy king like St. Paul's thorn in 
the flesh. For me, though I strove to wear a devout face, I 
could not help laughing at the sight of his royal shins." The 



366 HEROINES OF THE CHUSADKS, 

volatile French ladies, who bad experienced very much the 
same sensation, joined in the merriment. " I hear," said 
Eva, " we are to have another procession of the same kind 
ere long, and mayhaps they will require us to transport the 
holy relic in the same flimsy guise. Thou, Felice, who art 
so jealous of Sir Francis d'Essai's attentions to me, shall 
carry the cross. And the sharp-witted Beatrice shall bear 
the lance. Thou, Caliste, who hearest all and sayest naught, 
shall wear the sj)onge, and as for me, I shall take the rod 
of Moses and smite your rocky hearts, till the waters of 
repentance flow forth." " Hush ! hush !" exclaimed the 
damsels, " her majesty approaches." 

Scarcely were their countenances composed to the aj)- 
proved pattern of court propriety, and their eyes fixed 
upon their embroidery, when Queen Margaret entered, 
and, in her serenely gracious manner, informed them that 
his highness, the Emperor Baldwin, had presented another 
in valuable gift to her royal husband, and she counselled 
them, by fasting and prayer, to put themselves in readi 
ness to join the court in a procession to deposit the sacred 
relic in St. Chapelle. While each maiden dropped her 
head with apparent assent, but in reality to conceal her 
smiles brought ujj by the prospective realization of Eva's 
panorama, the facile girl devoutly crossed herself, and with 
a demure look replied, " We have heard of the noble Cour- 
tenay's munificence, and have endeavored, according to our 
poor ability, to prepare our minds for the solemn duty." 
!N"o sooner had the queen departed, than in a tone of mock 
gravity, she exhorted them to be diligent in their worship, 
for now she thought of it, she resolved to smile upon the 
young Squire Courtenay, who had besought her to em- 
broider a shamrock upon his pennon. Winning him, she 
should doubtless one day share the imperial purple, in 
which case she should reclaim those sacred treasures, and 
they would then be under the necessity of making a pil- 
grimage to Constantinople, for as Baldwin's last heir was 
in pawn, the crown would doubtless descend to the younger 
branches of his house. 



ELKANORA. 367 

CHAPTER ly. 

THE ESCAPE. 

In the court of France, the royal princesses received con- 
stant intelligence of the progress of the struggle between 
the English barons and the king, or rather, between Simon 
de Montfort and Prince Edward, who headed the oj)posite 
factions. Their hoj)es were raised by accounts of the gal- 
lant conduct of the young prince, and by the disaffection 
that arose between the confederate barons, but sudden 
misery overwhelmed them, when, after several years of 
torturing suspense, "VVm. de Yalence arrived at Paris, 
bringing news of the death of Guy de Lusignan, in the dis- 
astrous action at Lewes, and the captivity of King Henry 
and his gallant son. 

Queen Eleanor immediately determined to proceed to 
England, and her daughter-indaw Eleanora insisted upon 
accompanying her. Young de Courtenay, who had recently 
received the honors of knighthood, from his royal master, 
and Sir Francis, who had enlisted as his rival for the smiles 
of Eva, now a beautiful girl of fifteen, begged permission 
to join the escort, with a band of armed retainers. They 
landed at Plymouth, and lay concealed for some time in 
the wilds of Devonshire, while the gallant knights, Sir Henry 
and Sir Francis, scoured the country in all directions, for 
information concerning the captive princes. They learned 
that the royal army had retreated to Bristol castle, under 
the command of seven knights, who had reared seven ban- 
ners on the walls, and with determined valor held out 
against Leicester, and that the princes were confined in 
Kenilworth castle. The difficulty of communicating with 
the prisoners exercised the ingenuity of the little council 
for many days, but every plan involved danger, both to 
themselves and to the royal cause. 

Eleanora, whose clear sense and unwavering reliance on 



368 heroinp:s of thk crusades. 

a higher power, led her to a practical demonstration of the 
sentiment, "To hope the best is pious, brave, and wise," 
was the life and soul of everj arrangement, and the soother 
of those fainter spirits, who were ready to yield, to despair 
at every sign of failure. Their residence was in a little 
hamlet of the better class of peasants, faithful to the in- 
terests of the king. A deep forest extended on the west 
to a great distance, and in those wilds, spite of all caution, 
Eva delighted to ramble. One day she had been so long 
absent that even Eleanora, becoming alarmed, despatched 
her attendant in quest of her, and herself joined the search. 
As she passed along through the glades of the deep wood, 
her attention was arrested by the sight of a pretty boy, 
lying asleep beneath the shade of a spreading oak, whose 
dress from his embroidered shoes, to the ruby that fastened 
the plume in his velvet cap, was of the most exquisite 
beauty, and taste. The page was clad in a hunting suit of 
"Lincoln green," slashed with cloth of gold, that gleamed 
from the mossy bank upon which he rested, as though the 
sunshine had fallen and lingered there. A crimson bal- 
dric curiously WTOught with strange devices, lay across his 
breast, a sword with burnished sheath, was suspended from 
his belt. As Eleanora approached, and gazed upon the 
sleeping boy, she thought she had never beheld so lovely 
a youth, and an instinctive desire rose up in her heart, to 
enroll him in her service. 

" Wake, pretty one," said she, softly touching his cheek, 
" wake, and go with me." The youth started and gazed 
upon her, and a fiush of surprise and pleasure suffused his 
countenance. "Whose page art thou?" said Eleanora, 
" and how hast thou wandered into this wild ?" 

" Noble lady," returned the boy, casting down his eyes 
with modest hesitation, " my hawk hath gone astray, and 
I sought him till aweary, I fell asleep." 

"Thy friends have left thee in the greenwood," returned 
the princess, " and thou may'st not find them. Wilt go with 
me, and I will give thee gold and benison, and if thou art 
loyal, an errand worthy thy knightly ambition." 



ELEANORA. 369 

" Nay, treason may be loyal, or loyalty treason, in these 
troublous times," said the boy, " One says follow my lord 
of Leicester, another, draw thy sword for the good Prince 
Edward." 

" And if I say, draw thy sword for the good Prince Ed- 
ward, wilt follow me ?" 

The youth replied evasively, " I love my lady, and 1 
may not engage in other service, till I bring her proud bird 
back to the perch." 

Something in his earnest tone arrested the attention of 
the princess, and scanning the countenance of the youth 
with more curious scrutiny, she marked the rosy hue in his 
cheek, and the tear trembling in his blue eye, and exclaimed, 

" Eva ! Eva ! ! How is this ?" 

" Nay, an thou knowest me, I will e'en venture on thy 
knightly errand," said the blushing girl, falling on her 
knees, and repeating the oath of fealty, rapidly as possible 
to hide her emotions. 

" Rise," said the princess, with all the sternness she could 
command, " and tell me whence this disguise." 

" I know not, lady, more than thou, save this. Scarce a 
week since, I met in this wood the tall knight who hath so 
nobly defended us, and yesternight I braved the fear of thy 
frown, and came to this trysting-place. He hath concerted 
a plan for the liberation of my royal master, and brought 
me this disguise, which must be sufficient, since it so long 
baffled thy quick discernment. Accident has betrayed me, 
else it had not rested with my lady, whether Eva should 
trust the stranger, and aid in restoring the proud bird of 
England to his royal perch." Eleanora paused one moment, 
while her mind, ever clearest and most active in emer- 
gency, poised between the possibility of danger to her fa- 
vorite, and rescue to her lord. 

"The knight has twice preserved our lives, he must be 
bold and true, and heaven hath raised him up for our de- 
liverance, since God conceals us from our enemies, and re- 
veals our lurking-place to liini. It were treason to doubt 

this divine Providence, since it would imply neither trust 

24 



870 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

in man, nor faith in God. Go, Eva," said the princess, her 
eyes filling with tears, as she pressed her to her bosom, 
and imprinted a warm kiss upon her cheek. " Heaven 
will protect and prosper thee, and my noble Edward know 
how to reward thy devotion." She stood gazing fondly on 
her in silence, while Eva's color went and came as though 
she essayed, what yet she feared, to utter. At length she 
stammered forth, " My lady will send Sir Francis with his 
band to guard the fords of the Exe till my return." 

" Sir Francis," reiterated the queen, in a tone of sur- 
prise ; " methought Sir Henry were more agreeable escort." 

Eva tried to hide her crimson blushes beneath her deli- 
cate fingers, as she whispered, " If my mistress please, I 
would that Sir Henry should be ignorant of this unmaid- 
enly disguise." 

" Thou lovest Sir Henry, then ?" said Eleanora. 

" N'ay, lady, I know not that," replied Eva ; " but there 
is something in him that commands my regard despite my 
will, and I would not needlessly forfeit his esteem." 

" I will answer for thee, sweet," replied the princess. 
"Sir Francis shall go according to thy wish. But must I 
leave thee here alone and unprotected ?" 

" The monarch of the forest spreads his broad arm for 
my protection, and thou shalt envy my repose, in my sylvan 
eyrie," replied Eva, lightly springing into a fantastic seat, 
formed by the twisted branches of a gnarled oak, and com- 
pletely concealed by the foliage. Firmly ensconced in her 
rustic lodge, she leaned forward and whispered a gentle 
farewell, as the princess, bearing in her mind a vision of 
a bright face, peeping out from among the green leaves, 
turned and rapidly retraced her steps to the hamlet. 

That night Sir Francis set out with his train, and as two 
maidens accompanied the band, one wearing the dress of 
Eva, her absence excited no suspicion. 

Meanwhile the sprite remained in her place of conceal- 
ment, till the gathering shadows of the trees stretched 
stealthily across the glade the appointed signal for the 
gathering of the outlawed bands. The tall knight soon ap- 



ELEANORA. 871 

peared, and, lifting her gently from the tree, placed her 
on a beautiful Spanish jennet, and smilingly handing her 
an ivory whistle, terminating in a silver cross, bade her 
summon her satyrs. She placed it to her lips, and blew a 
shrill call, and forthwith from the leafy bosom of every 
bush and shrub there issued a huntsman, clad in forest 
green, and carrying only such weapons as were used in the 
chase. The knight gave them hasty directions for the dif- 
ferent points of rendezvous, at which they were to watch 
the safety of the young squire, warned them against those 
places where they would be most likel}" to encounter the 
malcontents, and then mounting the noble steed that stood 
pawing the turf in impatience by his side, and laying his 
hand upon the rein, recalled Eva to herself, by saying, with 
emphasis, " Sir Launfal, we must away, or morning will 
dawn ere we cross the fords of Exe." 

They rode at a brisk pace for some time in silence, the 
mind of each being too much occupied for words. 

The knight at length spoke abruptly. " Thou hast a turn 
for adventure, pretty page, and I'll warrant me, ready 
tongue, but how dost thou think to gain speech with Prince 
Edward ?" 

" Nay, that I leave with thee," returned Eva, " since I 
ki.ow neither the place to which I am bound, nor the duty 
I am to perform." 

" And that I scarce know myself," replied the knight. 
"The lady Maud Mortimer has the swiftest courser in all 
England, a coal-black Arabian, brought by Richard of 
Cornwall as a gift to her ladyship, on his return from the 
Holy Land. My Lord Mortimer is a partisan of Leicester, 
but is somewhat cooled in his devotion to the proud earl, 
from an affront received since the battle of Lewes. The 
lady, therefore, to be revenged, has volunteered her steed 
for the escape of Edward. There riseth, however, another 
difficulty. The prince is constantly surrounded with 
guards, so that no stranger may accost him. My merry 
men have beset the castle in every kind of disguise, but to 
no purpose. Of late, the prince rides forth of a morning. 



372 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

closely attended, and I have brought thee, hoping that thy 
woman's wit may effect more than all our dull brains have 
yet accomplished." 

As the captive prince, sick with hope deferred, languidly 
mounted his horse and rode forth upon his monotonous 
round, he was surprised by the appearance of a saucy-look- 
ing page, who mingled carelessly among the attendants, 
and challenged the younger squires to test the speed of 
their horses. 

" And who art thou, pert boy ?" inquired the captain of 
the guard. 

"Who but the squire to my Lord de Mortimer? Thou 
must be learned in heraldry an thou knowest not the de- 
vice of the noble earl," replied the page, with an air of 
nonchalance that easily satisfied his interrogator, and eager 
of sport the whole party joined in the race. They were 
thus led far beyond their usual limits. But the prince, 
whose heart was sad, evinced little interest in the anima- 
ted scene till the page, loudly entreating him to jxit his 
steed to the mettle, found opportunity at intervals to whis- 
per, " To-morrow when the horses of the guards are blown, 
seek the copse by the Hazel Glen." As if disgusted with 
the familiarity of the page, the prince slowly turned away, 
but not till he had exchanged a glance of intelligence with 
his new friend. 

The following morning the gallant Sir Launfal stood in 
the copse holding the reins of his own palfrey, and the 
steed of Lady Mortimer, till he was faint and weary. The 
expected hour for Edward's arrival had long passed, and 
notwithstanding his effort to appear the brave squire he 
personated, it must be confessed he felt veiy like a timid 
girl, whose active imagination peopled the wood with a 
thousand unknown dangers. He turned the whistle nerv- 
ously in his fingers, and almost essayed to try its magic 
powers in summoning around him the brave outlaws who 
waited bis bidding, when the welcome sound of advancing 
hoofs reassured him, and a moment after the prince dashed 
into the thicket. 



ELEANORA. 873 

" Keep to the bighway till we meet at the cross-roads," 
said the page, resigning the rein into his hand. 

The shouts of the pursuers were already on the air, as 
the prince vaulted into the saddle and took the direction 
indicated. Striking into a bridle path, Sir Lauufal reached 
the cross-roads just as the prince appeared, and together 
they rode gaily on towards Bristol. The pursuers soon 
after gained the same point, where they encountered a 
woodman, jogging on slowly after two loaded mules, of 
whom they inquired concerning the fugitive. 

" He he's gone yonder," replied the boor, pointing in the 
direction opposite to the one which the prince had taken, 
where upon an eminence appeared an armed force. The 
baffled guards, fearing that the conspiracy might have been 
more extensive than they had anticipated, made the best 
of their way back to Kenilworth. 

" And who art thou, my pretty page ?" inquired Edward, 
" that hast so dexterously redeemed thy prince, and whither 
dost thou conduct me ?" 

" I wear the badge of Mortimer," replied Sir Launfal. 
" The Lady Maude is the constant friend of thy royal 
mother." 

" Canst tell me aught of the movements of the rebel 
barons, or the fate of my brave knights ?" 

" Nay, my giddy brain recks little of politics or war," 
returned the boy, " but there are can give thee tidings." 

A moment after they turned an angle in the road, and 
the boy putting the whistle to his mouth sounded a sharp 
note, and a party of huntsmen, apparently in quest of 
game, darted across the path, while one shouted, as if to 
his companions, " To the right, the game lies by the Her- 
mit's Cross." The page immediately turned his palfrey, 
motioning to silence, and led oif into the path through the 
wood, and after several hours' hard riding arrived at the 
appointed place of rendezvous. 

At the foot of a large wooden cross, weather-stained and 
somewhat decayed, sat a monk, closely robed in gown and 
cowl, who ruse at their approach, saying in a low voice, 



374 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

" The benison of our Lady of Walsingham rest upon you ;" 
and with great strides conducted them deeper and deeper 
into the wood, till they came to a hunter's lodge, which, 
though much in ruins, gave signs of having been recently 
repaired, with some view to the rank and comfort of those 
who were to occupy it. 

The prince made light of the trifling inconveniences to 
which they were subjected, remarking, " A soldier has little 
choice of resting-place." But poor Eva, wearied almost 
to death from the unaccustomed fatigues of the day, now 
that the stimulus of excitement was over, had leisure to 
think of her own situation ; and scarcely able to restrain 
her tears, crept silently to her couch of fern, and beneath 
the russet covering, soon slept from very exhaustion. The 
prince and the monk meanwhile conferred apart in low 
tones, concerting measures for present and future security. 

" Gloucester is with us," said the priest, "and Sir Roger 
de Mortimer has a party of picked men on the road to 
Evesham. My band have charge of every ford and pass 
between this and Hereford. The scouts report that Leices- 
ter's men are much wasted by their long residence on the 
Welsh frontier, and my jolly fellows are this night engaged 
in breaking down the bridges across the Severn. For we 
churchmen have a fancy, that baptism is necessary to wash 
away the sins of rebels." 

" I fear not all the rites of the Church can absolve the 
black-hearted traitor," returned Edward, with great asper- 
ity. " But proceed with thy news." 

" The country is beset with Leicester's spies," continued 
the monk, " else had I been less guarded in my communica- 
tions with thee. Bands of men are daily mustering in 
every direction, making the high-roads unsafe for honest 
travellers like myself." 

" Thou wilt join our forces with the brethren of thy chap- 
ter," suggested the prince. 

" Our chapter are somewhat too much tinctured with 
heresy to hail the ascendency of the odious De Montforts," 
replied the monk ; " thou mayst, therefore, dei^end upon 



ELEANORA. 875 

their most earnest intercessions in thy behalf. But for me, 
I must restore pretty one," nodding his head significantly 
towards the spot where Eva lay asleep, " to his mistress. 
It is a matter, not of selfish interest alone, that the loyal 
page be restored unharmed." 

" Thou art right," returned Edward. " I would not that 
the charming boy should lose one raven curl for me, though 
he hath risked his freedom and, perhaps, his life to save 
me." 



CHAPTER V. 

THE DETERMINATION. 



After the battle of Evesham, in which Edward entirely 
overthrew the party of the rebel barons, and re-established 
Henry's throne, Eleanora resided alternately in the palace 
of Savoy and at Windsor castle. The care of her three beau- 
tiful children occupied much of her attention, and in their 
nurture the streams of her affection deepened and widen- 
ed, until they embraced all who came within the sphere of 
her influence. The now charming, but still volatile, Eva 
occasioned her infinite anxiety. 

Since the day when Sir Francis had received her from 
the tall knight, at the ford of the Exe, he had held her by 
the two- fold cord of obligation and the possession of a secret ; 
and from the first moment he discovered that she was 
sensitive upon the subject, he had not ceased to use his 
power to his own advantage. She was thus obliged to treat 
him with a favor which he ill deserved ; yet such was the 
natural transparency of her character, that her real senti- 
ments so often betraj^ed themselves, as to keep him in a 
constant state of irritation. 

Sir Henry de Courtenay, whose sincere and ardent na- 
ture gave him little taste for mysteries, could not brook the 
inconsistencies that constantly presented themselves in her 
manner, and determining that his hand should never be 



376 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

bestowed where there was not the basis of confidence, with- 
drew himself from the sphere of her attractions. Eva 
grieved at his departure, but it was in vain that the princess 
represented, that the readiest escape from her difficulties 
was a courageous and candid confession of the truth. 

Eva " did not care if he could be piqued bj such trifles, 
as her smiling upon Sir Francis, when she heartily wished 
him among the Turks, he might e'en seek his fortune else- 
where. And for the matter of that, who could tell that it 
was desirable for the heiress of Strongbow to many a 
simple knight." But these heroics usually ended in violent 
fits of weeping, and profound regrets that she had ever 
forfeited the confidence of De Courtenay. 

Meanwhile, Edward began to feel the languor of inglori- 
ous ease, and as his dreams of ambition returned upon him, 
his thoughts reverted again and again to the unsolved prob- 
lem that had exercised the political mathematicians of Eu- 
rope for nearly two centuries. Could a permanent christian 
kingdom bo founded in Palestine ? All the blood which 
the French had shed, and all the wise counsel that Louis 
lavished in the Seventh Crusade, had failed to erect the 
necessary defence, or compose the disorders that oppressed 
the Syrian Christians. Nor were the Mussulman lords of 
Syria in much better condition. The noble dynasty of 
Saphadin had fallen a prey to the ruthless Mamelukes, and 
a blood-stained revolution in Egypt had placed the fierce 
Almalek Bibers on the throne. An excuse was not wantinir 
for the invasion of Palestine, and the holy places were 
again bathed in the blood of their gallant defenders. The 
military orders were nearly annihilated, and the country 
was ravaged with fire and sword, almost to the very walls 
of Acre. 

About this time an event, no ways connected with the 
East, turned Edward's attention to the adoption of the cross. 
He had challenged Sir Francis to a game of chess. In tlie 
midst of the play, from an impulse unaccountable to him- 
self, he rose and sauntered towards the embroidery frame, 
to relate to Eva his adventure with the page whose inge- 



KLEANORA. 377 

iiiiity li;id.oiice saved his life. Sir Francis, curious to enjoy 
her aitfiil evasions, followed him ; and a moment after, the 
centre stone of the groined ceiling fell with a terrible crash 
on the very spot where they had been sitting 

This almost miraculous preservation induced the prince 
to believe that he was destined to perform some great ser- 
vice for God. It recalled to his mind the benizon of onr 
Lady at Walsingham, and, accompanied by Eleanora and 
a goodly train, he set off the following day to offer on her 
shrine at Norfolk an altar-cloth of gold brocade, and to 
crave her protection upon the expedition that he now seri- 
ously meditated. 

" Eva," said the princess, very gravely, when they sat 
one da}" alone, " thou knowest my lord contemplates a pil- 
grimage." 

" The saints preserve us !" said Eva. " Are there not 
holy places enough in England, but my lord must risk his 
life upon the sea, and encounter the black Infidels whose 
very presence is a terror?" 

" 'Tis not alone to visit the holy places," replied Eleano- 
ra, " though that were a work well worthy knightly daring ; 
but to redeem our christian brethren from the power of 
their foes, and to establish the kingdom of Christ, in the 
land where He died for his people." 

" And have not the holiest men and the bravest warriors 
in Europe, from Peter the Hermit to Fulk of Neuilly, and 
from Godfrey of Boulogne to the good St. Louis, all at- 
tempted it and failed ? My lord, I warrant me, has been 
reading the tales of the romancers, or been deceived by 
the cunning manifestos of the pope," returned Eva. 

" Eva, dear one, when shall I teach thee to treat with re- 
spect those in authority." 

" I know that I am wrong," said Eva, " but why does 
not his Holiness take the cross himself, if he considers it 
such a pious work ?" 

" And if the Sovereign Pontiff be one of those who say 
and do not, the Scriptures still require us to obey those who 
sit in Moses' seat," replied the queen. 



378 HEKOINES OF TilK CllUSADKS. 

" Thy goodness reproveth rae beyond thy words. I would 
that I could be always truthful and pure as thou," said 
Eva. 

" Nay," returned the queen, " I do but repeat tliat which 
the confessor this morniug told me." 

"Forgive my irreverent prating," replied the maiden, 
" but it seemeth strange to me that one, who lacks the 
grace of christian charity himself, should dictate the devo- 
tions of m}^ lady who is love itself." 

" Ah ! partial one," returned the princess, " hadst thou 
lived in Beziers, St. Dominick would have had thy head for 
thy heresy. But seriously, my Eva, thy praises humble me, 
for methiuks had my life really exhibited those graces for 
which thy partial fondness gives me credit, I might ere this 
have taught thy restless spirit the composure which trust in 
God always gives." 

Alarmed by the grave tone of her mistress, and anxious 
to conceal the emotions that welled up in her heart, Eva re- 
plied, with assumed gaiety, " Nay, what canst thou expect 
from a sea-sjjrite ? Surely I must rise and fall like my na- 
tive element," 

" Ah ! darling, this is that w'hicli hath so often forced 
home upon me the thought I would not willingly apply to 
thee, ' Unstable as water, thou shalt not excel.' And 
this it is makes me solicitous to gain thy candid ear while 
I unfold my husband's plans." Tears rolled over the fair 
girl's cheeks, but she remained perfectly silent. " Sir 
Warrenne Bassingbourn, whose noble heart thou kuowest 
well, hath demanded thee of Edward, being pleased to say 
that thy fair hand would be sufficient guerdon for his gal- 
lant conduct in the wars. My royal father will give thee 
fitting dowry, and I would see my sweet friend well be- 
stowed with some worthy protector before I embark upon 
that voyage from w^hich I may never return." 

" Thou embark for Palestine !" exclaimed Eva, forgetting 
her own brilliant prospects in the contemplation of her 
lady's purpose. " Bethink thee, my most honored mistress, 
of all the perils that beset thy course." 



ELEANORA. 379 

" I have counted them over, one by one," replied the 
princess, calmly. 

" Thou hast thought of the dangers of the sea, perhaps, 
but reraemberest thou the dreadful pestilence ? — the hor- 
rors that Queen Margaret told? — how the leeches cut away 
the gums and cheeks of the sufferers, that they might swal- 
low a drop of water to ease their torments ?" 

" I remember all — I have considered well," returned the 
princess. " And this also do I know, that nothing ought to 
part those whom God hath joined ; and the way to heaven 
is as near, if not nearer, from Syria as from England, or my 
native Spain." 

" Then I go with thee," said Eva, throwing herself at the 
feet of Eleanora, and pressing her lips upon her hand, 
" for if God hatli not joined me to thee, he hath left me 
alone in the world. Thou hast been to me more than Nao- 
mi, and I shall not fail to thee in the duty of Ruth. Where 
thou goest I will go, where thou diest I will die, and there 
will I be bnried. Thy people shall be my people, and thy 
God my God. The poor, lone Eva, whose mother lieth in 
the deep, deep sea, and whose father is perchance a wan- 
derer or an outlaw, shall no more strive to veil the sadness 
of her orphan heart by the false smiles and assumed gaiety 
that grieve her truest, only friend. Henceforth I will learn 
the lesson thou hast, with such gentle patience and sweet 
example, ever strove to teach me." 

Eleanora mingled her tears with those of the impassioned 
maiden, and, anxious to end the painful scene, said, "Thou 
shalt go with me, love, to danger, and perhaps to death, 
since such is thine election ; but what answer shall Edward 
return to Sir "Warrenne Bassingbourn ?" 

" Let my lord assure Sir "Warrenne," said she, rising 
proudly, " that Eva de la Mer is not insensible of the honor 
he intends, but that she will never add the shamrock to a 
knight's escutcheon, till she knows by what title she claims 
the emblem." 



880 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN. 

The benevolent Louis could not rest in the palace of Vin- 
cennes while the Mamelukes were slaughtering the Chris- 
tians, or destroying their souls by forcing them to renounce 
their faith. In his protracted devotions in the Sainte Cha- 
pelle, he fancied he heard the groans of the dying in Pal- 
estine, and his soul was stirred for their relief. He convened 
the barons in the great hall of the Louvre, and entered 
bearing the holy crown of thorns. He took the cross in 
their presence, and made his sons and brothers take it, and 
after those no one dared refuse. Especially did he exert 
himself to gain the concurrence of the English. Edward 
joyfully assented to the proposal, and Eleanora, with her 
female train, departed in the sj)ring of 1270 for Bordeaux, 
where she superintended the preparations for the crusade 
campaign. Thither Edward followed her when his own 
arrangements were complete. From Bordeaux they sailed 
for Sicily, where they remained the winter, and where they 
heard the melancholy intelligence of the death of King 
Louis, who had advanced as far as Tunis on his way to 
Egypt. With his last breath, the sainted king whispered 
the name that was set as a seal upon his heart. " Oh ! 
Jerusalem ! Jerusalem !" His brother, Charles d'Anjou, 
King of Sicily, attempted to dissuade Edward from prose- 
cuting the expedition. But the noble prince, striking his 
hand upon his breast, exclaimed, with energy, " Sangue de 
Dieu ! if all should desert me, I would redeem Acre if 
only attended by my groom." 

When Edward turned the prow of his vessel up the Med- 
iterranean, Acre was in a state of closer siege than it had 
formerly been, at the advent of Richard Coeur de Lion. 
But now it was the Mussulmans who lay encamped around 
its walls, and the Christians who feebly defended it from 



ELEANORA. 381 

their tierce attack. The fate of tlie principality of Antioch 
was closelj connected with that of the Latin kingdom of 
Jerusalem. 

The family of Bohemond, the first sovereign, who married 
Constantia, daughter of Phillip I., King of France, had 
reigned there in unbroken succession nearly to the period 
of the last Crusade — though the State was tributary to 
Frederic II. and to his son Conrad. The last king was 
made a knight by St. Louis. "When the Egyptians com- 
menced their conquests in Syria, Antioch surrendered with- 
out even the formality of a siege, and thus the link between 
the Greek Empire and Palestine was sundered, and all 
prospect of aid from that quarter entirely cut off. 

In Acre were assembled the last remains of all the Chris- 
tian principalities of the East; the descendants of the he- 
roes who, under Godfrey of Boulogne, took up their resi- 
dence there ; the remnants of the military friars who had 
so long and so strenuously battled for the ascendency of 
the " Hospital" and the " Temple" no less than for the 
redemption of the Holy Sepulchre ; and all the proselytes 
who, through years of missionary efforts, had been gathered 
from the Pagan world. But the defenceless were more 
numerous than the defenders, and the factions which di- 
vided their councils would have ripened into treachery 
and ended in ruin, had it not been for the presence of 
Sir Henry Courtenay. From the day of his estrangement 
from Eva, he had bestowed his devotion upon those objects 
which he thought best calculated to fill the void in his 
heart. At the first news of the disasters in Palestine, he 
had assembled all the partisans and vassals of the noble 
house of Courtenay, and, furnishing them from his own 
purse, rallied them around the standard or torteaux^ 
and led them to the rescue of their eastern brethren. He 
reached the city at the critical moment when, wearied 
with the strife, the Templars had begun to negotiate with 
Melech Bendocar upon the terras of a capitulation. His 
courteous and noble bearing harmonized the jarring spir- 
its, and his ardent valor inspired them with new hopes, and 



382 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

enabled them to maintain the last stronghold in Palestine, 
till the arrival of Edward. 

The knowledge that a Plantagenet had come to lift the 
dishonored banner of the cross from the dust, spread terror 
and dismay among the ranks of the Moslem, the Sultan of 
Egypt fled from the city of Acre, all the Latins in Pales- 
tine crowded round the standard of the English prince, 
and Edward found himself at the head of seven thousand 
veteran soldiers. With this force he made an expedition 
to I^azareth, which he besieged wnth the most determined 
valor. In the fight, Edward was unhorsed, and might 
have perished in the melee, had not Henry Courtenay re- 
linquished his own steed for his master's use. The gallant 
youth then took his station by the side of a tall knight, 
whose falchion gleamed in the front of the battle like the 
sword of Azrael. They were the first to mount the scaling- 
ladders and drive the Moslem from the walls. Nazareth 
was thus, by one decisive blow, added to the dominions of 
Christendom. 

But the wing of victory was paralyzed by the scorching 
sun of Syria. Edward was prostrated by tlie acclimating 
fever that wasted the energies of Richard Coeur de Lion, 
and in tlie palace of Acre he longed, in vain, for the cool- 
ing draughts of iced sherbet, that the courteous Saladin had 
bestowed upon his royal predecessor. Sir Francis d'Essai 
had followed the fortunes of Edward, or rather of Eva, to 
Palestine, hoping to win the favor of his lady's smiles. 
The sight of de Courtenay roused all his former jealousy, 
and the cordial manner of Eva towards his rival almost 
drove him to desperation. Various circumstances had ex- 
cited an apprehension in Edward's mind, that the connt 
was seeking to make common cause with the Arabs, but as 
no tangible proof of treasonable practices appeared, the sus- 
picion passed away. 

The illness of the monarch continuing, Eleanora deter- 
mined to make a pilgrimage to the Jordan, to pray at the 
shrine of St. John for her husband's recover}^, and, at his 
own earnest solicitations, Sir Francis was permitttvl to con- 



ELEANORA. 383 

duct the piirty. Elcaiioni uftevwards remein])ered that be 
rode most of tlie way in close atli'inl.iMce upon Eva, and 
seemed engaged in eai-nest conversation, though several 
muttered oaths gave lier the impression tliat the colloquy 
Avas not so satisfactory as he could have wished. They ac- 
complished their pilgrimage safely, and commenced their 
return, when, stopping to refresh themselves m a small 
grove near Mount Tabor, a band of mounted Saracens fell 
upon them. There was a fierce struggle, and. for a few 
moments, the o-leaminir of swords and the flash of scimeters 
seemed to menace instant destruction. Both the assailants 
and defenders were scattered through the wood, and a few 
of the frantic females attempted flight. The Moslems at 
length retreated, but when the princess summoned her re- 
tainers to set forward, neither Sir Francis nor Eva could be 
found. 

Alarmed for the safety of ber lovely companion, Elea- 
nora caused the vicinity to be searched in every direction. 
Her palfrey was discovered idly cropping the grass, but all 
trace of its fair rider was lost. With a bursting heart 
the princess gave orders to proceed with all haste to Acre, 
that scouts in greater numbers miglit be sent in quest of 
the lost jewel. 

The state of Edward's health was such, that it was not 
deemed advisable to acquaint him with the melancholy 
result of their pious enterprise. But de Courtenay at once 
comprehended the plot. Such a m61ee, without bloodshed, 
proved no hostile intention on the part of the Arabs, and 
there could be no doubt that Sir Francis was the instigator 
of the attack, and the possession of Eva, its object. His 
impatience to set oif for her rescue did not prevent him 
from taking every precaution, both for the safety of Acre, 
and the success of his expedition. Eleanora, whose charac- 
teristic self-possession had left her at liberty to observe, 
described with the most scrupulous exactness the circum- 
stances of the fray, and each trifling peculiarity in the 
appearance of the robbers. 

Fortified with this intelligence, he set ofl"at once, with a 



384 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

select pfirt}', and a few hours after leaving Acre, was un- 
expectedly joined l)v tip' l.i'A I'Ciiight, and a reinforcement 
of converted PuUani. From him he learned th-at the 
Arabs had taken the direction of Mt. Lebanon, and from 
his knowledge of the Assassin band, his lieart smik within 
him, at the thought of what might have been the fate of 
his lovely Eva. In his anxiety for her rescue, all her faults 
were forgotten, and he only remembered the gentle kind- 
ness that characterized every action, and the nameless 
charm, that made her friends as numerous as her acquaint- 
ances. Prompted by these considerations, they spurred 
forward, stopping only to refresh their wearied steeds, till 
they began to wind among the rocky passes of Mt. Leba- 
non. 

The tall knight seemed perfectly familiar with the local- 
ity, and guided the jjursuers directly to the tower, called 
The Vulture's Nest, which was the chief residence of the 
Old Man of the Mountain, There seemed to be an intelli- 
gence between the tall knight and all the marabouts who 
guarded the entrance to this " Castle Dangerous." Leav- 
ing their followers, the two leaders advanced, and the 
knight presenting a piece of shrivelled parchment to an 
Arab, who filled the ofiice of porter, they were ushered into 
a long hall, at the door of which stood a swarthy Turk, 
partly leaning upon an immense battle-axe, the handle of 
which was stuck full of daggers. The Sheik received them 
with an obsequiousness scarcely to be expected from one 
of his bloody trade, and in answer to the knight's eager 
inquiries, motioned his attendant, and instantly that which 
had appeared a solid masonry, rolled silently back, as if 
by magic, revealing an apartment fitted up with every ap- 
pliance of eastern magnificence. Before they recovered 
from their surprise, voices were heard from the farther 
extremity of the room, soft female pleading,, and then the 
loud menacing tones of passion. 

"Eva, thou shalt be mine ! I swear it by all the fiends 
of hell. Nay, anger me not by thy cold repulse. Thou 
art now beyond the protection of the smooth-tongued de 



ELEANOEA. 385 

Courtenay." He seized her arm as he spoke, and a pier- 
cing shriek rang through the hall. 

"Traitor! viper! release thy hold," exclaimed de 
Courtenay, springing forward and receiving the fainting 
girl in his arms. 

" And who art thou, that darest to cross the purpose of 
D'Essai ? By what right dosf thou interfere between me 
and mj bride?" 

" By the right of a father," said a deep, stern voice at 
his side, and the tall knight advancing, tenderly clasped 
his unresisting daugliter to his heart, and stood by like one 
lost in a tide of long-repressed emotions, while the two 
nobles fiercely drew their swurds, and with deadly hatred, 
each sought the life of his foe. But the Sheik interposed, 
reminding them, that his castle walls were sacred, and that 
if his tributaries chose to slay one another, they must seek 
the open field for the pastime. Reluctantly, and with 
eyes that glared v»-ith baffled vengeance, the lords sheathed 
their swords, and the tall knight, laying his daughter gently 
upon a couch, spake a few words apart to the Sheik. 

The Old Man made a sign of assent, and instantly two 
Arabs sprang forward, seized D'Essai, bound him with 
thongs, and conveyed him from the apartment. Relieved 
of her fears, and reassured by the presence of a father, for 
whose affection slie had always pined, and a lover, on whom 
she now contrived to smile in a way that completely satisfied 
his heart, Eva dechired herself impatient to set off imme- 
diately for Acre. The Sheik pressed them to partake of 
some refreshments, and while Eva enjoyed a few moments' 
delicious conversation with her sire, a troop of slaves pre- 
pared and set before them an entertainment that would 
have done honor to the palace of a king. As the cavalcade 
set out, the tender heart of Eva was pained to see Sir 
Francis placed upon the back of a mule, blindfolded, witli 
his face to the crupper, and his arms firmly pinioned to 
the body of the Arab who had him in charge. 

"Thou seemcst on excellent terms with tlie Sheik of the 
mountain, noble Clare," said de Courtenay, as they rode 

25 



386 HEROINES OF TPIE CRUSADES. 

along. " Had I not a guarantee in thy kindred," said he 
glancing at Eva, " I should somewhat challenge the famil- 
iarity that has given such success to our expedition." 

" ]N^ay, and that thou well mightst," returned the Clare, 
" for the history of mankind does not furnish the idea of 
so daring and desperate a band as these assassins of Mt. 
Lebanon." 

"Heaven save us!" exclaimed Eva, her lips white with 
fear. " From what terrible fate have I been delivered! 
That vile Sir Francis declared that he had snatched me 
from the hostile Arabs, and would bring me safe to Acre, 
and that it was in pity for my fatigue he turned aside to a 
castle of christian natives. It makes me shudder, even 
now, to think that I have been in the presence of the man 
whose very name hath made me tremble, when beyond the 
sea, in merrie England." 

" Nay, love," said her father, tenderly, " the Sheik owed 
thee no malice, and might have rescued thee, had not Sir 
Francis been his tributary." 

" They exact, then, toll and custom ?" said Courtenay, 
inquiringly. 

" Thou sayest well exact^'' replied the knight. " Didst 
not mark the battle-axe of the rude seneschal ? 'Tis said 
the Danish weapon once belonged to the founder of the 
band, and each dagger stuck in the oaken helve, inscribed 
with a sentence in a different dialect, is significantly pointed 
against the prince or ruler who shall dare withhold tribute 
from their chief. One of my ancestors, I reck not whom, 
once resided in the vicinity of Croyland, and received fi'om 
the venerable abbot the parchment which thou sawest me 
use with such marvellous effect. My ancestor fought in 
the first crusade under the Atheling, and, unlike most of 
his companions, returned in safety, M^hence a tradition 
arose in the family that the scroll was a charm. 

" On my setting out for the holy wars, I placed the heir- 
loom in my aumoni^re, and had nearly forgotten its exist- 
ence, when a startling circumstance recalled it to memory. 
My plan for the redemption of Palestine (for I have not 



ELEANORA. 387 

been without ambition) was the organization of troops col- 
lected from the mixed races which are now an important 
part of the population. I was warned at the outset that 
tribute would be demanded by the chief of the assassins, 
but I steadily resisted every tax-gatherer who presented his 
claims, till I awoke one morning in my tent, surrounded 
by my faithful guard, and found a dagger stuck in the 
ground not two fingers' breadth from my head. I examined 
the inscription upon the weapon and found it the same 
with that upon the scroll, and fortliwith determined to form 
the acquaintance of this rival chief. He respected my 
passport and showed me the wonders of his habitation, 
which heaven grant I may never see again. So perfect is 
the discipline of his followers, so invincible their faith, that 
every word of their chief is a law. He led me up a lofty 
tower, at each battlement of which stood two Fedavis. At 
a sign from him, two of these devotees flung themselves 
from the tower, breaking their bones, and scattering their 
brains upon the rock below. ' If you wish it,' said the 
chief, ' all these men shall do the same." But I had seen 
enough, and I resolved from that hour never to tempt the 
enmity of the Old Man of the Mountain. 

" I have ransomed yon traitor, at heavy cost, for I would 
that Edward should know and punish his baseness. You 
are now beyond the reach of danger. I may not enter 
Acre — the reasons shall be told ere long. Farewell, my 
daughter, sweet image of thy sainted mother ; guard my 
secret safely till we meet again. Adieu." 

He dashed the rofvels into his steed, and was soou lost 
among the hills. 



388 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Meantime the palace of Acre bad been witness of a fear- 
ful scene. Since tbe fall of Nazaretb tbe Emir of Joppa 
bad opened negotiations witb Edward, professing a desire 
to become a cbristian convert. So eager was tbe king for 
tbis bappy consnmmation tbat be cberisbed tbe deceitful 
bope, beld out by tbe Infidel, and granted bim every op- 
portunity for gaining information concerning tbe tenets and 
practices of tbe cburcb. 

Letters and messages frequently passed between tbem, 
and so accustomed bad tbe English guards become to tbe 
brown baick and green turban of tbe swartby Mobamme- 
dan, wbo carried tbe despatches, that they gave him free 
ingress to the city and admitted him to the jDalace, and even 
ushered him into the king's ante-chamber almost without 
question or suspicion. 

The day bad been unusually sultry, even for tbe Syrian 
climate. Tbe heat of tbe atmosphere somewhat aggravated 
the symptoms of the disease from which Edward was slowly 
recovering, and Eleanora had passed many weary hours in 
vain endeavors to soothe bis restlessness and induce re- 
pose. 

As the sun declined a cooling breeze sprang up from the 
sea, seeming to the jDatient wife to bear healing on its 
wings, and tbe invalid, stretched on his couch before the 
casement, began at length to yield to tbe soothing influence 
of slumber, when tbe chamberlain entered to say that the 
emissary from Joppa waited an audience. 

" Now have I no faith in the conversion of tbis Infidel," 
said Eleanora, with an impatience unusual to her gentle 
spirit, " since his messenger disturbs my lord's repose." 

" Yerily thou lackest thine accustomed charity," replied 
Edward. "I bad thought to bear thee declare tbe conver- 
sion of tbis Saracen my crowning glory in Palestine. But 
thou art weary, my love. Go to thy rest, thy long vigils by 



ELEANORA. §89 

my side have already gathered the carnation from thy 
cheek." 

" Yet, my lord — " interposed Eleanora. 

" Xay, nay," said Edward, " disturb not thy sweet soul; 
perchance more than my life depends upon the interview. 
I will straight dismiss the envoy, and then thou canst en- 
trust my slumbers to the care of the faithful Eva." 

At the mention of Eva a new and not less painful train 
of associations was awakened in the mind of Eleanora, and 
with a heavy sigh she withdrew as the messenger entered. 

A moment after there were sounds as of a violent strug- 
gle and of the fall of a heavy body, and Eleanora, who had 
lingered in the ante-chamber, scarcely knowing why, rushed 
back into the apartment, followed by the chamberlain and 
guards. 

The assassin lay upon the floor in the agonies of death, 
his head broken by the oaken tressel from which she had 
just risen. Prostrate by his side lay the prince, in a state 
of insensibility, the blood faintly oozing from a wound in 
his arm. The princess comprehended at once the risk her 
husband had incurred, and shuddered with apprehension 
at the thought of the danger that yet might menace him ; 
and while the attendants lifted him from the floor, she 
tenderly raised his arm to her lips, and began to draw the 
venom from the wound. But no sooner did Edward revive 
from his swoon, than, forcibly thrusting her aside, he ex- 
claimed, "Eleanora my life, knowest thou not the dagger 
was poisoned ?" 

" Even so, my lord," said she, with steadfast composure, 
still firmly persisting in her purpose, notwithstanding his 
constant remonstrance. 

The fearful intelligence of their leader's peril spread with 
lightning speed through the city, and self-sent messengers 
hurried in every direction, and summoned leeches and 
priests to cure or shrive the dying monarch. The Grand 
Master of the Temple, who was somewhat practised in- the 
habits of the assassins, appeared in the midst of the exciting 
scene, and commending the timely application of Eleanora'a 



390 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

loving lips, bound up the wound with a soft emollient, and 
prescribed for the princess an antidote of sovereign efficacy. 
Scarcely had silence resumed her dominion in the palace, 
when the porter was again aroused to admit de Courtenay 
and his rescued Eva. The traitor D'Essai had been lodged 
in the tower of Maledictum, to wait Edward's pleasure con- 
cerning him ; and Eva, her heart overflowing with rap- 
ture in the assurance of Sir Henry's restored confideu'ce, 
and the security of a father's love, passed the livelong night 
with Eleanora, in that free communion of soul which gener- 
ous natures experience when the gushings of a common 
emotion overleap the barriers of conventionalism and for- 
mality. 

Edward was himself again. The steady ray of reason 
had subdued the fevered gleam of his eye, and the ruddy 
hue of health replaced the pallor of wasting sickness upon 
his cheek. His athletic frame had wrestled with disease, 
and come off conqueror over weakness and pain ; and as 
he assumed his seat of judgment, clad in his warlike pan- 
oply, the royal Plantagenet "looked every inch a king." 
The great church of Acre was thrown open, and knights 
in brilliant armor, and Templars and Hospitallers in the 
habiliments of their orders, bishops and priests in their 
sacred robes, and vassals in their holiday array, crowded 
up the long aisles, and filled the spacious choir, as though 
eager to witness some splendid ceremonial. But instead 
of gorgeous decorations, wainscot and window draped with 
black diffused a funereal gloom, and the solemn reverbera- 
tion of the tolling bell seemed to sound a requiem over 
the grave of Hope. 

Sir Francis d'Essai had been tried in a council of his 
peers, and found guilty of treason to religion and knightly 
devoir ; and this day, the anniversary of his admission to the 
rank of knighthood, his companions in arms, the vassals 
whom he despised, and all those actuated by curiosity or 
enmity, were assembled to witness his degradation. Eva 
shuddered at the terrible doom of her former lover, and de 



ELKANORA. 891 

Courteuay, with instinctive delicacy, had obtained permis- 
sion to absent himself from the scene on a visit to the H0I3' 
Sepnlchre. As king-of-arms, and first in rank, it was the 
duty of Edward to preside over this fearful ceremony, 
which, by the true and loyal, was regarded as more terrible 
than death ■itself. 

At the first stroke of the great bell, the pursuivants, hav- 
ing robed Sir Francis for the last time in his knightly ha- 
biliments, conducted him from the Cursed Toi^e/- toward the 
church. As they entered the door, the doleful peal sank 
in silence, and, after one awful moment, his fellow-knights, 
with broken voices, began to chant the burial service. 

An elevated stage, hung with black, had been erected in 
the centre of the nave, and upon this the j)ursuivants, 
whose business it was to divest him of every outward in- 
signia of courage and truth, placed the culprit, in full view 
of all the vast concourse. 

When the chanting ceased. Prince Edward spoke in a 
voice that thrilled to every heart, "Sir Francis d'Essai ! 
thou who didst receive the sword of knighthood from the 
hand of the good St. Louis, dost stand before us this day 
attaint of treason to th}' God, thy truth, and the lady of thy 
love. Wherefore thy peers have willed that the order of 
knighthood, by the which thou hast received all the honor 
and worship upon thy bodj^, he hrought to nought, and thy 
state be undone, and thou be driven forth outcast and dis- 
honored according to thy base deserts." Instantly the 
brazen tongue from the belfry ratified the fiat, and announ- 
ced the hour of doom. At the word, the squire with 
trembling hand removed the helmet, the defence of dis- 
loyal eyes, I'evealing the pale and haggard countenance of 
the recreant knight, and the choir resumed the mournful 
dirge. Then each pursuivant advanced in his order to the 
performance of his unwelcome duty. One by one the 
knightly trappings of D'Essai were torn from his body, and 
as cuirass, greaves, brassarts, and gauntlets rang upon the 
pavements, the heralds exclaimed, " Behold the harness of 
a miscreant !" 



392 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADKS. 

Trembling and bent beneath the weight of shame, the 
(■iraven stood, while they smote the golden spurs from his 
heels, and brake his dishonored sword above his head, and 
the terrible requiem wailed over the perished emblems of 
liis former innocence. 

The Grand Master of the Templars then entered upon the 
stage, bearing a silver basin filled with tepid water, and 
the herald, holding it up, exclaimed, " By what name call 
men the knight before us ?" 

The pursuivants answered, " The name which was given 
him in baptism, — the name by which his father was known, 
— the name confirmed to him in chivalry is Sir Francis 
d'Essai." 

The heralds again replied, " Falsehood sits upon his 
tongue and rules in his heart ; he is miscreant, traitor, and 
Infidel." 

Immediately the Grand Master, in imitation of baptism, 
dashed the water in his "face, saying, " Henceforth be thou 
called by thy right name. Traitor !" 

Then the heralds rang out a shrill note upon the trum- 
pets, expressive of the demand, " "What shall be done with 
the false-hearted knave ?" Prince Edward in his majesty 
arose, and in a voice agitated with a sense of the awful 
penalty, replied, " Let him with dishonor and shame be 
banished from the kingdom of Christ — Let his brethren 
curse him, and let not the angels of God intercede for him." 

Immediately each knight drew his sword, and presenting 
its gleaming point against the now defenceless D'Essai, 
crowded him down the steps to the altar, where the pur- 
suivants seized him, and forced him into his cofiin, and 
placed him on the bier, and the attendant priests completed 
the burial-service over his polluted name and perjured soul. 
At a sign from the king, the bearers took up the bier, and 
all the vast congregation followed in sad procession, to the 
city-gates, where they thrust him out, a thing accursed, 
while the great bell from the lofty tower of the cathedral 
told the tale of his infamy in tones of terrible significance, 
"Gone — ^gone — gone — virtue, faith," and truth ; lost — lost — 



ELEANORA. 393 

lost — honor, fame, and love." From Carmel's hoary height 
to Tabor's sacred top, each hallowed hill and vale rever- 
berated the awful knell, " Gone and lost — lost and gone" 

and the breeze that swept the plain of Esdraelon 

caught up the dismal echo, and seemed hurrying across the 
Mediterranean to whisper to the chivalry of Europe the 
dreadful story of his degradation. 

Stung by the weight of woe that had fallen upon him, the 
miserable D'Essai rose and gazed across the plain. An arid 
waste spread out before him like the prospect of his own 
dreary future, blackened and desolate by the reign of evil 
passions. 

Life, what had it been to him ? A feverish dream, a 
burning thirst, a restless, unsatisfied desire ! Yirtue — 
honor — truth — idle words, their solemn mockery yet rang 
in his ears. He ran — he flew — anywhere, anywhere to flee 
the haunting thoughts that trooped like fiends upon his 
track. 

He neared the banks of the river, its cooling waters roll- 
ing on in their eternal channel, promised to allay his fever 
and bury his dishonored name in oblivion. He plunged in — 
that ancient river swept him away, the river Kishon, and 
as he sank to rise no more, a deep voice exclaimed, " So 
jDcrish thine enemies, O Lorcf !" It was the voice of Der- 
raot de la Clare, who, passing southward at the head of his 
troop, from the opposite bank became an involuntary wit- 
ness of the frantic suicide. 

The week following the ceremony last described, Eva en- 
tered the apartment of Eleanora, each fair feature radiant 
with pleasure, bearing in her hand a carrier-pigeon, whose 
fluttering heart betokened the weary length of way that 
had tried the strength of its glossy pinions. 

" Whence hast thou the dove, and wliat is his errand?" ex- 
claimed the princess, equally eager fur any intelligence that 
might affect the fate of the East. 

" A Pullani brought it to the palace," she replied, and 
hastily cutting the silken thread, slie detached a letter from 
beneath the win*!; of the bird. It contained but these 



394 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

words ; " The Sultan of Egypt is hard pressed by the Mos- 
lems. It is a favorable moment to commence negotia- 
tions." 

The seal of the Shamrock was the only signature, but 
Eva well understood that the Clare had been engaged in 
devising an honorable scheme to release Edward from an 
expedition which could not result in glory to the christian 
arms. 

The prince had now been fourteen months in the Holy 
Land. His army, never sufficient to allow of his undertak- 
ing any military enterprise of importance, was reduced by 
sickness, want and desertion, and he therefore gladly ac- 
cepted the hint of his unknown friend, and despatched de 
Courtenay to Egypt with proposals of peace. 

It was a glad errand to the knight, though the timid and 
(she could not conceal it) loving Eva warned him most 
strenuously against the artifices of the Sultan, Al Malek al 
Dhaker Rokneddin Abulfeth Bibers al Alai al Bendokdari 
al Saheli, whose name, at least, she said, was legion. 

" And were he the prince of darkness himself, the love 
of my guardian Eva would protect me against his wiles," 
gallantly returned the count. 

" Alas !" said Eva, humbly, " thou little knowest the 
broken reed on which thou leanest. My weak will mocks 
my bravest resolutions, and makes me feel the need of a 
firmer spirit for my guide." 

"Heaven grant that I may one day receive the grateful 
office," returned her lover. 

" Heaven help me become worthy of thy noble devo- 
tion," said Eva, remembering with regret the cruel test to 
which she had subjected his generous afiection. 

De Courtenay found little difficulty in settling the terms 
of a ten years' truce with the formidable Mameluke ; for 
the Sultan had far greater reason to fear his Moslem than 
his Christian foes. 

There was no occasion for the farther sojourn of the 
English in Palestine ; and Edward, having accomplished 
nothing more than his great-uncle, and leaving a reputa- 



ELEANORA. 895 

vion scarcely inferior to CcBur de Lion, departed with bis 
retinue" for Europe. 

Notwithstanding the peaceful termination of the expedi- 
tion, this crusade, the last of the chivalrous offspring of 
Feudalism and Enthusiasm, like its elder brethren, found 
a premature grave in darkness and gloom. 

The son of St. Louis, Philip the Hardy, returning from 
Tunis, deposited five coffins in the crypts of St. Denis. 
They contained the remains of his sainted father, Louis 
IX., of his brother Tristan, of his brother-in-law, Thibaut, 
descendant of Adela, of his beloved queen and their infant 
son. Weak and dying himself, he was almost the only 
heir of his royal famil3^ The ambitious Charles d'Anjou, 
•the rival and the murderer of Corradino, grandson of Fred- 
eric and Violante, plundered the stranded vessels of the 
returning crusaders, and thus enriched his kingdom of 
Sicily, by the great shipwreck of the empire and the 
church. 

Death, too, had been busy in the palace of Windsor. 
The two beautiful children of Edward and Eleanora had 
been laid in the tomb, and their grandfather, Henry HI., 
with their aunt Margaret, Queen of Scotland, soon followed 
them to the great charnel-house of England, Westminster 
Abbey. The melancholy tidings of these repeated bereave- 
ments met the royal pair in Sicily, and cast a jpall over tlie 
land to which they had anticipated a triumphant return. 

The great problem of the conquest of Palestine was not 
yet solved to the mind of Edward, but the progress of the 
age trammelled his powers and limited his ambitious aspira- 
tions. The orders of knighthood, exhausted by the repeated 
drafts made upon their forces, by these eastern expeditions, 
began to decline in the scale of power ; and the lower ranks, 
finding new avenues to wealth in productive labor and 
commerce, began the great battle with military organiza- 
tions and hereditary aristocracy, wliich has been going on 
with increased advantage to the working classes from the 
middle ages to tlie }>resent gK)riou3 era. 

Gregory X. nuulu s<»i)ie feeble attempts to rouse Europe 



896 Heroines ot' the crusades. 

once more for the redemption of the Holy Sepulchre, but 
his earnest apj^eal received no response from the sovereigns 
of Christendom, and within three years the last strain of 
the great anthem " Hierosolyma liberati" that began with 
the swelling tones of mustering warriors and sounded on 
through two centuries in the soul-stirring harmonies of ju- 
bilante peans, alternating with the mournful measures of 
funeral dirges, ended in a last sad refrain over the dimin- 
ished remnants of the military orders, who, in a vain de- 
fence of Acre, dyed the sands of Syria with their blood. 

From Sicily the royal crusaders proceeded to Rome, 
where they were cordially welcomed and splendidly enter- 
tained by Pope Gregory X., who, having long filled the 
oflBce of confessor in their household, had been recalled 
from the Holy Land, to occupy the chair of St. Peter. 

In the train of the King of England was his cousin, 
Henry, son of Richard of Cornwall, a gallant young noble 
who had led the detachment that opposed the baud of Lei- 
cester, and, by his warlike prowess, greatly contributed to 
the successful issue of the sanguinary conflict at Evesham. 
His zeal and loyalty during this doubtful period, commend- 
ed him to the confidence of Edward, and he had still more 
endeared himself to his royal patron, by his ardor in battling 
against the Infidels, and his brilliant achievements at the 
siege of ]!Tazareth. 

The young Henry was the affianced husband of the 
Princess Mary, in consequence of which, Eleanora had ad- 
mitted him to an intimacy, and evinced for him an affection 
almost equal to that enjoyed by the royal children themselves. 

During tlie stay of the king at Rome, the devoted Henry 
obtained permission to make a pilgrimage to a celebrated 
shrine near Naples, for the consecration of sundry relics 
which he had collected in Palestine. As he knelt at the 
foot of the altar and closed his eyes in prayer, he was not 
aware of the entrance of his mortal enemy, Guy de Mont- 
fort, son of the Earl of Leicester. With stealthy tread the 
assassin approached, bent over tlie suppliant j'^outh, and 
exclaiming, "Die! murderer of my father!" thrust his 



ELEANORA. 397 

sword into the heart, beating warm with life and hope, and 
sprinkled the holy relics with the blood of another martyr. 
With a vengeful frown of satisfied hate, he wiped the 
sword, returned it to its scabbard, and strode from the 
church. One of his knights, fit follower of such a master, 
inquired as he rejoined his trooj?, 

" What has my lord Guy de, Montfort done ?" 

" Taken vengeance," was the fiendish reply. 

" How so ?" rejoined the knight. " Was not your father, 
the great Leicester, dragged a public sj^ectacle, by the hair 
of the head through the streets of Evesham ?" 

Without a word the demon turned to his yet more malig- 
nant triumph, and seizing the victim, whose pale lips yet 
moved with the instinct of prayer, dragged him from the 
attendants, who were vainly striving to staunch the life- 
blood welling from the wound, to the public place, and 
left him a ghastly sjjectacle to the horror-stricken crowd. 

It was now necessary for the murderers to think of self- 
defence. The English retainers of Earl Henry had raised 
the cry of revenge, and the Italian populace excited by the 
fearful tragedy that had been enacted in the very presence 
of the virgin and child, began to run together and join the 
jjarties of attack or defence. The train of de Montfort im- 
mediately raised the shout of, " d'Anjou ! Down with the 
Ghibelines !" and when the armed forces of the Duke 
Charles rode into the midst of the throng to investigate 
the cause of the tumult, Sir Guy joined their ranks, and 
departed for I^aples under their escort. 

Tidings of this melancholy event were soon carried to 
Home, and Edward immediately appealed to the pope for 
justice upon the murderer. Gregory, who feared to of- 
fend Edward, and who was almost equally alarmed at the 
prospect of a rupture with the tyrant of Sicily, had re- 
course to various ingenious methods of delay. Finding 
however that the King of England had determined to post- 
pone the obsequies of his noble relative, until a curse was 
pronounced upon the assassin, he was forced to the exer- 
cise of et'clesiastieal measures. 



398 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

Clothed in his jjontifical robes, Gregory X. entered the 
church at Orvietto, and proceeding to the high altar, took 
the bible in his hand, and, after setting before the awe- 
struck assembly the guilt of the culprit, proceeded thus to 
fulminate his anathema against the assassin. 

" For the murder of Henry of Germany, slain before the 
shrine of St. Mary, in the face of day, we lay upon Guy 
de Montfort the curse of our Holy Church. In virtue of 
the authority bestowed upon us as the successor of St. Pe- 
ter, we do pronounce him excommunicate, and alien to all 
the privileges and consolations which our blessed religion 
aiibrds. We permit every one to seize him— we order the 
governors of provinces to arrest him — we place under in- 
terdict all who shall render him an asylum — we prohibit 
all Christians from lending him aid, and we dispense his 
vassals from all oaths of fidelity they have made to him ; 
may none of the blessings of this holy book descend upon 
him, and may all the curses contained therein, cleave unto 
him ;" and he dashed the bible to the ground. 

Lifting the waxen taper, he continued, " Let the light of 
life be withdrawn from him, and let his soul sink in eternal 
night.'''' With the word he threw the candle upon the 
pavement, and instantly every light in the church was ex- 
tinguished, and amid the gloom, the trembling congrega- 
tion heard the voice of the pontiff, ringing out full and clear, 
*' I curse him by book, by candle, and by bell." A solemn 
toll proclaimed the malediction, and amid the darkness and 
the silence, the multitude crept one by one from the church, 
as though fearful of being implicated in the terrible de- 
nunciation. 

Edward, having thus placed his cousin under the ban of 
the church, disdained to j)ersecute him with farther ven- 
geance, and taking an amicable leave of the pontift' con- 
tinued his route to France. Learning that England was 
quiet under the regency of the queen-mother, he improved 
the opportunity to make the tour of his southern dominions, 
and, in gallant sports and knightly adventures passed seve- 
ral months upon the continent. 



ELEANORA. 399 

Edward and Eleanora arrived in England, August 2d, 
1273. The English welcomed their return with the great- 
est exultation. Both houses of parliament assembled to do 
honor to their entrance into London, and the streets were 
hung with garlands of flowers and festoons of silk ; while 
the wealthy inhabitants, showered gold and silver on the 
royal retinue as they passed. 

Preparations were made for their coronation on a scale 
of magnificence hitherto unrivalled. Fourteen days were 
spent in erecting booths for the accommodation of the 
populace, and temporary kitchens for the purpose of roast- 
ing oxen, sheep, and fowls, and preparing cakes and pastry, 
for the expected banquet. Hogsheads of Bordeaux wine, 
and pipes of good stout English ale, were ranged at con- 
venient intervals, and flagon-masters appointed to deal 
them out to the thirsty crowds. 

The night before the expected ceremony, the presump- 
tive king and queen were indulging in reminiscences of 
the early days of their married life, and comparing those 
troublous times, with the splendid future that seemed to 
stretch in bright perspective before them. 

" Methinks, sweet life," said Edward, tenderly taking 
her hand, " those days when thou dwelt a fugitive in the 
wilds of Devonshire, and I languished within the walls of 
Kenilworth, gave little promise of our present peaceful 
state." 

"True, my lord, yet had 1 not dwelt in the humble ham- 
let, I might never have known the pure loyalty of English 
hearts." 

" By our Lady, thou hast a better alchemy than thy 
clerkly brother, the Castilian monarch, for his science 
finds only gold in everything, while thy diviner art finds 
good in all, and loyalty in outlaws." 

" I remember me," replied Eleanora, with an arch smile, 
" there Avas a gallant outlaw, in whom my woman's heart 
discerned every noble and knightly quality. But small 
credit can I claim for my science, since it was the alchemy 
of love that revealed his virtues." 



400 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

" ]^o other alchemy hath e'er found good in man, and, 
sinner as I am, I might fear the judgment of thy purity, 
did not the same sweet charity that discovers undeveloped 
virtues transmute even errors into promises of good. To- 
morrow, God willing, it will be in Edward's power to con- 
stitute Eleanora the dispenser of bounty. Whom would 
she first delight to honor?" 

"Since the prince of outlaws puts it in my power," said 
Eleanora, with a look of grateful afiection, " I would e'en 
reward those bold foresters who delivered my Edward from 
the enemies that sought his life." 

" Thou sayest well, dearest," replied Edward, " and now 
that thou remindest me of my escape from thraldom, I pray 
our Lady of Walsingham aid me to discharge an obligation 
that hath long laid heavy on my conscience. Yesternight, 
methought I saw, among the yeomen busy in the prepara- 
tions for the approaching pageant, the tall outlaw, who, in 
his gown and cowl, one moment gave me priestly benizon, 
and the next, advised me of Leicester's movements, with 
the sagacity of a practised w^arrior. Such length of limb 
and strengtli of arm, once seen, does not escape my mem- 
ory; and, if my eye deceive me not, 'twas he, with Courte- 
nay, who led the assault at Nazareth ; and furthermore, it 
runneth in my mind, that I have seen him elsewhere and 
in other guise." 

" Mayhap it was the tall knight who defended Eleanora 
at the Jews' massacre, till thy arrival dispersed the rabble 
mob," returned the queen. 

" By the soul of St. Bartholomew thou divinest well," 
said the king ; " and, since thou knowest the monk, perhaps 
thou canst give me tidings concerning the shrewd-witted 
boy, who managed to gain speech with me, when all my 
partisans had failed. So fair a squire must, ere this, 
have earned the spurs of knighthood ; and much would it 
pleasure me, to lay the acolade upon his shoulder, in re- 
turn for his dextrous plotting. That the lad pertained not 
to the household of Mortimer, I knew right well ; but 
whether he were a retainer of the bold outlaw who organ 



KLKANOliA. 401 

ized the ruyul forces, or some young noble wliose love of 
adventure set him upon the work, I could never yet de- 
cide." 

" And if he were retainer of the outlaw ?" said Eleanora, 
inquiringly. 

"My gratitude should none tlie less reward the service 
of one who risked his life for mine," replied tlie king. 

A smile of satisfaction beamed on the countenance of 
Eleanora, and opening her gypsire, and taking thence the 
small ivory whistle, she despatched an attendant with the 
token to Eva. 

Shortly after, the conversation was .interrupted by the 
entrance of an attendant, who announced that a page from 
Lady Mortimer craved an audience of his majesty. 

"Let him be at once admitted," said Edward, casting a 
significant glance at Eleanora. 

The door was thrown open, and the beautiful boy, whose 
image at that moment filled the mind of the king, entered 
with trembling step, and proceeding straight to the monarch, 
knelt at his feet, and with clasped hands began to plead 
earnestly for the pardon of the banished Earl Dermot de 
la Clare. 

" How is this ?" exclaimed Edward, gazing with aston- 
ishment, first upon the kneeling page, and then upon his 
wife. " IIow is this ? by the Holy Rood, my heart mis- 
gives me, thou art witch as well as alchemist. Here is 
the identical page I have vainly sought for nine long 
years, conjured up by the magic of an ivory whistle." 

" Earl Dermot de la Clare !" said he to Eva, lifting the 
boy tenderly from his knees, " why has the banished out-- 
law sought thy fair lips to plead his cause ? Let himself 
present his claims to our clemency, and we will promise 
justice for ourself, and perchance a better guerdon from 
our loving spouse, who would ever have mercy rejoice 
above judgment. 

" And thou, sweet dove," said he, gazing admiringly 
upon the doubting Eva, " ' who wearest the badge of Mor- 
timer,' and whose ' giddy brain recks not of politics,' de- 

26 



402 HEROINES OF THE (JKUSADKS. 

mandest manor and lordship for an outlawed man ! Didst 
crave it for thyself, not twice the boon could make me say 
thee nay." 

" 'Tis for myself I crave the boon, royal liege," said Eva, 
falling again upon her knees. " Dermot de la Clare is 
tiie sire of thy poor orjDhan charge." 

" Thy sire !" exclaimed the prince, greatly moved. " How 
knowest thou this ?" 

" First, by the story of the rescued sailor, wbo was one 
of the band with which my father thought to regain pos- 
session of his fief, when the act of attainder had branded 
him an outlaw. He it was with the cartman's frock, who 
waited our coming at the cross-road on the memorable day 
of my lord's escape. Next, by the shamrock, the ancient 
cognizance of the house of Strongbow, and by the rose of 
Sharon, which my mother wrought upon the scarf in mem- 
ory of her husband's pilgrimage. But Eva finds the strong- 
est proof in the promptings of her heart ; for from the day 
since she rested in his arms at London bridge, to the time 
when he drew her from the Vulture's Nest at Mount Leb- 
anon, she hath trusted in his love, and obeyed his bidding, 
with such confidence as none but a father could inspire." 

" Thy eloquence hath proved thy cause," said the king, 
raising her and seating her by his side ; " and were I a 
needy knight, requiring royal favor, I'd bribe thy pleading 
eyes to back my suit, and never fear denial." 

Eva essayed to stammer forth her thanks, but tears 
choked her utterance, and Eleanora, pitying her confusion, 
reassured her with playful allusions to her childish aspira- 
tions for the sovereignty of Ireland. 

"I fear me," said Edward, gazing upon her varying 
color with admiration, '• that to reward all my subjects and 
vassals, according to their merit, will exhaust my ex- 
chequer. The audacity of these benefactors exceeds all 
belief! It was but this morning that one more bold than 
his fellows demanded the fairest flower of our court as a 
recompense for his knightly service in the eastern cam- 
paign." 



ELEANOKA. 403 

The conscious Eva looked iinploniigly at lier mistress, 
who graciously accorded her permission to depart, while 
Edward continued his raillery, 

" I referred the gallant unto thee, love," said he, " for he 
must be a brave man who dares transfer the possessions of 
his wife." 

"To the marriage of de Courtenay with our beautiful 
ward," returned the queen, "there riseth but one objection. 
From the similarity of her name, she ever fancied herself 
the heiress of the former King of Leinster, and hath culti- 
vated a taste for decorations befitting royalty. I fear me 
that Sir Henry, being but the younger branch of his house, 
will scarce be able to maintain a state suited to her desires." 

" God grant she have not the ambition of Earl Strigul, 
else might we find it necessary to do battle for our fief of 
Ireland," said Edward. 

" Nay, from the ambition of Eva, thou hast nought to 
fear ; her heart would incline her rather to bestow benefi- 
ces upon her friends, than to hoard treasures for herself. 
Therefore it is that 1 desire for her worthy alliance and 
princely dower," returned the queen. 

" Thou hast it in th}'' pov/er, best one, to obviate thine 
own objections and to bless the loyal hamlet that protected 
thy seclusion, by giving them so gracious a mistress." 

Tears of gratitude filled the eyes of the queen, as looking 
afiectionately upon her husband she replied, " How lost 
were Eleanora to the love of God did she not daily thank 
Him for making her the wife of one who finds his own hap- 
piness in promoting the welfare of his subjects." 

"Not all his subjects regard him with thy partial fond- 
ness," said the king. " Our brother, Alexander of Scot- 
land, has refused to renew the oath of homage, which his 
ancestor made to Henry II. for his crown, and will attend 
our coronation only as kingly guest ; while the bold Llewel- 
lyn refuses to set foot in London." 

" The troublous period through which the realm so lately 
passed, pleads their best excuse for these unjust suspicions," 
suggested the queen. " When the wisdom and magnanim- 



404 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

ity of ray Edward shall become known, they will learn to 
trust their interest in his hands with the confidence of vas- 
sals." 

" Thou would'st fain persuade me," said Edward, laugh, 
ing, " that I may love my enemies." 

"I would persuade thee," said Eleanora, with a smile 
of confident atiection, " to make thine enemies thy friends. 
Suspicion ever breeds hatred. There be many warm, true 
hearts in England, at this hour, who, having followed the 
fortunes of Leicester, for what they deemed the public good, 
are withheld by fear, from uttering the shout of loyalty." 

" And how would'st thou purpose that I should bind them 
to their allegiance ?" said Edward, curiously. 

" By the same rule that our blessed Lord restored this 
fallen world," returned the queen, timidly. " He declareth 
his love toward us, even while we are sinners, and thus we 
learn to confide in Him." 

" Yerily, there seems truth in what thou sayest," said 
the king, thoughtfully ; " but it were a thing unheard of — 
for a ruler to illustrate the princi]3les of forgiveness, and 
place his kingdom at the mercy of traitors." 

" The good St. Louis," urged Eleanora, almost fearful of 
pressing the matter too far, " leaned ever to the side of 
mercy ; and no king of France hath enjoyed a more peace- 
ful or glorious reign." 

"It shall be as thou sayest," said Edward, after a pause, 
during which he gazed upon her pleading countenance, 
whose every feature mirrored the intense interest of her heart 
in the welfare of their subjects, and the honor of her lord. 
" It shall be as thou sayest. Heaven cannot sufier me to 
err in this matter, since it hath sent an angel for my coun- 
sellor." Then resuming his accustomed tone of afiectionate 
pleasantry, he added, " Thou think'st it well, dearest, for a 
warrior like myself to perform some work of supereroga- 
tion, to cancel the sins into which my love of power may 
yet lead me. But small merit may I claim for my clemency, 
since it were not in the nature of man to withstand the sweet 
earnestness with which thou dost enforce thy gentle counsels." 



ELEANORA. 405 

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE CORONATION. 

Nearly a century had elapsed since an occasion like the 
present had called together the different ranks and orders 
of the English population. Native Britons, Saxons, Danes 
and Normans, hereditary enemies, had, by years of un- 
avoidable intercourse, and by a community of interests, 
been fused into one mass, and now vied with each other in 
manifesting their loyalty to a king in whose veins mingled 
the several streams of the great Scandinavian race. The 
independent Franklin, the stout yoeman from the country, 
and the rich citizen and industrious artisan, the curious vas- 
sal, the stately knight, and lordly baron, alike instinct with 
love for feasting and holiday show, hastened to witness the 
ceremony. 

The coronation of John had been unpopular, both from 
the well-known malevolence of his disposition and the rival 
claims of his injured nephew. That of Henry III. took 
place in a remote part of the kingdom, when a portion of 
the island was in the possession of the French, and the 
minds of the people were distracted between a fear of 
foreigners and a detestation of the reigning family. JSTot 
a man in the realm, therefore, could remember so grand a 
spectacle as the coronation of Edward and the beautiful 
Eleanora of Castile. 

When the crown was placed upon their heads by the 
Archbishoj) of Canterbury, a murmur of joy arose from the 
assembled throngs ; but when the herald stood forth and 
proclaimed an indemnity to all those who had been en- 
gaged in the civil commotions of the former reign, and the 
repeal of the cruel statutes, that had made so many worthy 
citizens outlaws and aliens in the sight of their English 
homes, the enraptured multitude made the welkin ring 
with shouts of — Long live King Edward ! — Long live our 
gracious Queen Eleanora ! 



406 HEROINES OF THE CllUSADES, 

Tears dimmed the beautiful ejes of the gratified queen, 
fior she read in the enthusiastic acclamations with which 
the act of Indemnity was received, an incontrovertible tes- 
timony to the wisdom of the course she had so warmly ad- 
vocated, and an earnest of the peace which this display of 
her husband's magnanimity would secure to his realm. 

Foremost among those who hailed his accession, Edward 
discerned the commanding figure of the outlaw, who had 
so long and so successfully eluded his search. No sooner 
was he seated upon his throne, than he commissioned the 
lord-high seneschal to cause the mysterious personage to 
approach. As he came forward, and knelt at the mon- 
arch's feet, Eleanora recognized the tall knight to whom 
she owed her own life and her husband's liberty, and heard 
him with more pleasure than surprise announced as Dermot 
de la Clare. 

" Rise, noble Clare 1" exclaimed Edward, " to thee thy 
monarch owes his life and the security of his realm, and 
the honors and titles of thy house are henceforth restored, 
to which we add the forfeited manors of Leicester, not more 
a recompense for thy knightly service than a guerdon for 
the sweet affection of tliy lovely daughter." Scarcely had 
Earl Dermot retired among the nobles, who crowded around 
him with words of congratulation, when the monarch sum- 
moned Henry de Courtenay, and, in consideration of his 
services in the holy wars, created him Earl of Devon — 
whispering aside to the conscious noble, " Our gracious 
queen, Avho excelleth in charitj^, will give thee pity and 
dole of that which she hath in royal keeping, and for 
which thou wilt doubtless be more grateful than for all the 
lands of which we have this day made thee lord." 

Other faithful vassals of the crown were rewarded, and 
then the joyous multitude adjourned to the feasting and 
games, with which the day was closed ; and the marriage 
of Eva and Sir Henry, which took place the following day, 
added another fete to the coronation festivities. 

Among the various disorders to which the kingdom had 
fallen a prey during the wei\k and uncertain rule if Henry 



ELEANORA, 407 

III., none excited more universal dissatisfaction, tlian the 
adulteration of the coin. A^ the Jews were the principal 
money-lenders in the kingdom all embarrassments of this 
kind, were by common consent attributed to their charac- 
teristic avarice. 

Edward's crusade to the Holy Land, had not softened 
his prejudices towards this people, who, more than the In- 
fidels poured contempt upon the rites of Cin-istianity. In 
his zeal for the public welfare he proscribed the obnoxious 
race and confiscated their estates to the crown, and ban- 
ished no less than fifteen thousand valuable inhabitants 
from the kingdom. Notwithstanding these rigorous meas- 
ures he still retained in his employ certain of the hated 
sect to assist in the correction of the currency. 

The trivial circumstance of a change in the form of the 
penny gave rise to some of the most important occurrences 
that transpired during his eventful reign. 

The Welsh, deriving their ancestry from the early Brit- 
ons, placed tlie most implicit confidence in the prophecies 
of Merlin, wliich in an oracular manner set forth the desti- 
ny of the nation. One of these half-forgotten traditions, 
asserted that when the English penny should become round, 
a prince, born in Wales, should be the acknowledged 
king of the whole British island. No sooner, therefore, 
had the new coin begun to circulate west of the Menai, 
than the bards commenced to ring their changes upon the 
mysterious circumstance, and to inflate the minds of their 
countrymen with the hopes of conquest. The successes of 
Llewellyn, their prince, in reconquering all the territory that 
had been wrested from them by the Normans, gave great 
encouragement to their ambition. 

Not availing himself of the act of indemnity the Welsh 
prince still maintained his allegiance to the party of the 
Montforts, and was plotting with the remaining adherents 
of that powerful faction for assistance from France. To in- 
tercept these hostile communications, Edward ordered his 
fleet into the channel under the command of Earl Dermot de 
la Clare, both to testify a regard for tiie Irish noble, and a 



408 KEROINKS OF THE CKLtSADES. 

confidence in his abilities. Do Courtenay was residing 
with his bride a*^ Ex.t ■!•, \v\i n hj received intelligence that 
the Earl of Clare was on his way to ])ay them a visit, and 
the following day Eva welcomed her father to her new 
home. The earl was accomj^anied by a lady whom he in- 
trusted to his daughter's care, desiring that she might be 
kept in safety till Edward's pleasure concerning her should 
be known. At first the fair captive was inconsolable, but 
she at length found some alleviation of her grief in re- 
counting her eventful history in the sympathizing ear of 
Eva, now Marchioness of Devon. The Lady Eleanora was 
the only daughter of Simon de Montfort, and inherited the 
firm and relentless characteristics of her house, which the 
sedulous instructions of her mother Eleanor Plantagenet 
had somewhat softened and subdued. Her brother Guy, 
having gained absolution from the terrible malediction of 
the church, had sought to carry out his plans of vengeance 
by making an alliance with the Welsh, and to cement the 
treaty, he had consented to bestow his sister upon Llewel- 
lyn, and the young lady was on her way to meet her bride- 
groom when her vessel was intercepted, and herself made 
prisoner by Earl Clare. E[er position as the prospective 
Queen of Wales more than the enmity of her brother, made 
her fear the severity of her cousin, the King of England, 
but Eva assured her that the sentiments of Edward were 
characterized by the most generous chivalry, and that no 
feelings of malice or i*evenge could actuate him to any un- 
gallant procedure against her. ISTotwithstanding the con- 
fidence with which Eva made this asseveration, the fair bride 
of Llewellyn listened with a faint smile of incredulity, and 
answered with a sigh, " Ah ! lady, the poor daughter of de 
Montfort covets thine ignorance of the dark passions that 
rankle in the human breast !" " Thy fair young face gives 
little evidence of experience in worldly ills," returned Eva, 
with some surprise. " Events, not years, confer experience," 
replied Elin, " and young as I am, I have marked cherish- 
ed resentment ripen into deadly enmity. The unjust asper- 
sion of Henry IH. wrought upon the mind of my father. 



ELEANORA. 409 

till it well nigb ruined the broad realm of England. Thou 
canst never know the bitter sorrow that weighed uj)Oii my 
mother's heart during all the ci'uel strife between her hus- 
band and her brother. I well remember," said the agitated 
girl, proceeding impetuously with her sad reminiscences, 
" the fatal day of Evesham — how, cliilled with fear at my 
mother's agony, I laid aside my childish sports and crept 
cowering to a corner of her apartment in Kenilworth castle, 
while she paced the floor beseeching heaven alternately to 
spare her husband and save her brother. O ! it was terri- 
ble," added she, pressing her hands upon her eyes, while the 
tears gushed between her fingers, " when my brother Guy 
rushed in with the tidings of our father's defeat and death, 
and took his awful oath of vengeance." " Speali not of it," 
exclaimed Eva, shuddering in her turn at the recollection of 
the murder of young Henry, and the subsequent anathema 
pronounced upon Sir Guy. "It is little pleasure to recall 
these dreadful scenes," said Elin, gloomily, " but thou 
mayst learn from my brief history how little hope I have 
in one who aspires to power or has aught to revenge." "But 
her gracious majesty Queen Eleanora," said Eva, " will 
delight to soothe thy sorrows, and the sweet companionship 
of her daughters will win thee to happier thoughts." " ^ay, 
sweet lady, think me not ungrateful that I cannot trust thy 
kind presages. Whether it be a retribution, I know not, 
but since my grandsire's crusade against the Albigeois, 
evil has been the lot of our house. Hope, that seems ever 
to light the pathway of the young, hath never smiled on 
me." This despondency continued to depress the mind of 
the captive during all the period of her residence at Exeter, 
nor could Eva's ingenuity in devising schemes for her di- 
version, nor hopeful predictions concerning her future hap- 
piness with Llewellyn lure her to happier thoughts. But 
the courteous manner of Edward, when he came to receive 
his cousin and conduct her to Windsor, confirmed these 
promises ; and the unaffected kindness of Eleanora, while 
it soothed her afflictions, had the effect to awaken some de- 
gree of confidence in the mind of the despairing maiden. 



410 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

The capture of his bride infuriated Llewellyn beyond 
all bounds, and led him to invade England with the fiercest 
valor. His efforts were repulsed by the gallant conduct of 
the troops under the command of the Earl of Devon, and 
after four years of fruitless endeavor he consented to the re- 
quired homage, and came to Worcester to claim his bride. 

The cherishing sympathy of Eleanora had not been lost 
upon the heart of her stricken ward, and these years of 
tranquillity, the first the orphan Elin had enjoyed, so en- 
hanced to her mind the blessings of peaceful security- that 
she steadfastly refused to fulfil her engagement with Llew- 
ellyn, without his solemn pledge of continued amity to the 
English nation. When the bridegroom finding all other ex- 
pedients in vain consented to the required homage, the King 
of England gave away his fair kinswoman with his own hand, 
and Eleanora supported the bride at the altar and presided 
at the nuptial feast with the affability and grace so pecu- 
liarly her own. The Prince and Princess of Wales then 
accompanied their suzerains to London and performed the 
stipulated ceremony, the Snowdon barons looking on fierce- 
ly the while, with the air of warriors who were resigning 
their ancient rights. This discontent gave rise to various 
murmurings. They disdained the English bread, they were 
disgusted with the milk of stall-fed kine, they detested the 
acridity of the London porter, and they pined for the spark- 
ling mead concocted from the honeyed sweets gathered 
from their own breezy hills. They saw that their national 
costume and dialect conferred an uncomfortable notoriety 
upon them, and they more than suspected that they were 
the objects of jeering contempt. They therefore endured 
with great impatience the protracted entertainments with 
which Edward honored his guests, and finally left their un- 
comfortable quarters murmuring with stifled imprecations, 
" We will never more visit Islington except as conquerors." 
The unremitting influence of Elin, notwithstanding, coun- 
teracted the complaints of the malcontents, and Llewellyn 
religiously maintained friendly relations with England 
during her brief life. This interval of uninterrupted peace 



KLKANOKA. 411 

was employed by Eleaiioia in pruinpting her husband to 
measures for tlie public good, and England long enjoyed 
through the wise administration of her beneficent sov- 
ereign a respite from those evils under which the nation had 
groaned since the Norman conquest. By a royal patent 
Edward erected borougJis within the demesne lands and 
conferred upon them liberty of trade, and profiting by the 
example of Leicester, permitted them to send representa- 
tives to parliament, which was the true epoch of the House 
of Commons — the first dawn of popular government in Eng- 
land. The lower or more industrious orders of the state 
were thus encouraged and protected, and an interest in the 
commonwealth diffused through all the ranks of society. 



CHAPTER IX. 

CONQUEST OF WALES. 



The death of Joanna, mother of Eleanora, leaving the do- 
mains of Ponthieu and Aumerle, made it necessary for the 
king and queen to visit France, to do homage to Philip the 
Bold for their new possessions. They passed several 
months on the continent ordering the affairs of their feudal- 
tories, but their return was hastened by tidings of fresh 
disturbances in Wales. 

On her arrival at Windsor her daughter, Joanna of Acre, 
presented the queen with a letter which she said had been 
brought to the castle by a strange-looking priest who re- 
fused for some time to give it into any hand save that of 
Eleanora, but who was finally persuaded to intrust the pre- 
cious document to herself on her promise to deliver in per- 
son to her mother. The letter was from Elin the Princess 
of Wales. It read as follows : — " To my gracious sovereign 
Lady Eleanora of England the wife of Llewellyn sendeth 
love and greeting. 

" I had hoped once more to see the face of my noble 



412 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

mistress, and to visit the scenes hallowed by the first hap- 
py hours of my sad life. I had thought to crave thy bles- 
sing on my lovely infant, for my lord had promised that 
on the return of spring we should be conveyed to England, 
and this hath cheered me through the weary hours of sick- 
ness and languishing when my heart hath pined for the 
sweet communion which I sometimes enjoyed in the castle 
at Windsor. But the hills are already changing under the 
softening airs of spring, and my step is more feeble and 
my breath more faint, and I no longer indulge the antici- 
pation of thanking thy goodness for the pleasant thoughts 
with which thy holy counsels hath blessed my memory. 
But I am resigned to die ! and I know that before the 
flowers come forth my sad heart will find rest in the grave. 
One anxiety alone disturbs the serenity of my few remain- 
ing days, 

" Already my little Guendoline returns her mother's smile. 
Who will cherish her infant years and guide her youthful 
footsteps to those fountains of peace which the light of 
thine example hath so lately revealed to my erring sight ? 

"Struggling with weakness and pain, thy dying Elin 
pens this last earnest prayer. Let the damsel abide with 
thee. Let her be nurtured in the practice of those gentle 
virtues which her obdurate race have abjured. 

" Commend me to Edward, our sovereign, and those fair 
daughters that cluster round thy board and gladden thy 
life with their smiles. Again let me beg a place in thy 
heart for my orphan child, and oh ! remember in thy prayer 
the soul of the exile, who from thy lips first learned to 
hope in the mercy of Heaven." 

The letter bore the date of March, and it was now early 
June, and to Eleanora's anxious inquiries for further tidings 
concerning the lady Elin and her child no answer could be 
given. The king however had better sources of informa- 
tion. Scarcely was he recovered from the fatigue of travel 
when the lords were summoned in council to deliberate 
upon the petition of David and Rodric, brothers of Lle- 
wellyn, who had applied to the English court for assistance 



ELEANORA. 413 

From these barous Edward learned that the Welsh 
prince had violated the promise made to his princess ou 
her death-bed, of conveving their daughter to the care of 
Eleanora, and that stimulated bj the songs of the bards and 
the long-smothered anger of the malcontent barons, he had 
resolved to break his oath of allegiance to the King of 
England, and had dispossessed his brothers of their inherit- 
ance as a punishment for their loyalty. 

The council decided to assist David and Rodric in the 
recovery of their possessions, and Edward not displeased 
with the occasion of making an absolute conquest of the 
country, advanced with his army into Wales. 

The English at first suffered some reverses, but in the 
great battle of Builth, Llewellyn was slain, his forces put 
to flight, and the gold coronet taken from his head was 
ofifered by Prince Alphonso at the shrine of Edward the 
Confessor. But the war was not yet ended. Prince David 
now claiming the title of king, as the heir of his brother, 
assumed the command of the Welsh, and it needed the con- 
stant presence of Edward to keep down the rebellious spirit 
of the people. The same steadfast affection which had sup- 
ported Eleanora during the tedious hours of her anxious 
sojourn in the wilds of Devon, and that had prompted her 
to brave the varied dangers of the Syrian campaign, led her 
now to follow her lord's fortunes through the rugged de- 
files and rocky fastnesses of the Welsh mountains. 

For her security, Edward built and fortified the strong 
castle of Caernarvon, which now, after the lapse of nearly 
six centuries, presents the same external appearance as on 
the day when Queen Eleanora first entered its stupendous 
gateway in company with her royal lord. 

The battlements with which the walls were defended, 
stand unchanged in their hoary strength and grandeur, and 
the statue of Edward L, carved to the life, still protects the 
entrance of the castle, and with its drawn dagger, menaces 
the intruder who would venture within its guarded pre- 
cincts. The eagle tower yet nestles in the defences of the 
rocks, though the royal fledglings have deserted the com- 



414 HEROINKS OF THE CRUSADES. 

fortless eyrie of Snowdon for the softer luxuries of Windsor 
Castle and Hampton Court, and the oaken cradle of the 
second Edward, suspended by ring and staples from carved 
supporters, yet occupies its little nook in the secluded 
chamber where his infant eyes first opened on the light. 
Eleanora's experience of the conquering power of love, 
made her solicitous to employ a "Welsh attendant for her 
son, but such was the fear which her husband's name had 
inspired among the families of the fierce mountaineers that 
she was forced to abandon the project till accident procured 
for the amiable queen the domestic she needed not only, 
but threw into her hands the fate of Wales. 

From the irregular surface of their territory the Welsh 
were necessarily a pastoral people, and their simple manner 
of life exposed them to certain defeat when the conquest of 
their country was steadily and prudently pursued by the 
well-trained warriors of England. But like the hardy sons 
of all mountainous districts, the Welsh seemed to inhale 
the spirit of liberty from the free breath of their native 
hills, and hunted as they were from one retreat to another, 
they still rallied around their ancient standard, and lis- 
tened with rapture to predictions of their future greatness. 
Edward followed them with untiring patience through rug- 
ged defiles and rocky fastnesses till his heavy armed troops 
were ready to sink with fatigue. 

Everywhere they found evidences of the straits to which 
the miserable inhabitants were reduced. Deserted ham- 
lets, abandoned fields, and famishing animals, betokened 
the last extremity of sufiering. It was just at night- fall 
when they came suddenly upon a strong body posted within, 
the narrow precincts of a valley. 

The lowing of the herds that began to suffer from the 
want of forage, was the first sound that attracted the atten- 
tion of the English scouts, and by a circuitous path the 
whole detachment were conducted to a position command- 
ing a full view of the enemy. The bivouac consisted of 
rude huts or booths, constructed for shelter rather than de- 



ELEANORA. 415 

fence, in and around which sat barbarians in various atti- 
tudes of attention or repose. 

The watch-fires gleamed luridly upon the wild figures 
that circled around them, with dark and frowning brows, 
while from the centre of the encampment echoed the 
sounds of hoarse voices, accompanied by the martial strains 
of music. The barbarous language made the song of the 
bards incomprehensible to the English, but they divined its 
si^irit from the effect ujDon the rude auditors, who, at every 
pause in the agitating refrain, sprang to their feet, struck 
their spears upon their shields, and mingled their shrill 
voices in a responsive chorus of muttered vengeance. 

In the enthusiasm which the patriotic songs awakened, 
Edward read the secret of the protracted resistance, and 
saw that the destruction of these bards would insure his 
conquest. The trumj^ets were immediately ordered to 
sound, and his army, wearied as they were, summoned 
their fainting energies and rushed to the conflict. 

The Welsh, surprised in the midst of their fancied secu- 
rity, stood to their arms, and fought with the courage of 
desperation, the exhilarating strains of the bards rose to 
a shrill wail of agony, then sank in the voiceless silence of 
death. 

This final strain of the national poetry, was the requiem 
of Welsh liberty. King David made his escape through 
the defile of a mountain followed by a few of his nobles, 
and the Earl of Devon, in attempting to cut off his retreat, 
surprised and captured a company of frightened females 
who had been lodged in the rocky fastness for greater se- 
curity. With knightly courtesy he extended to his help- 
less captives every delicate attention that would soften the 
rigor of their fate. 

His sympathies were especially excited by the distress 
of a woman of an appearance somewhat superior to her 
companions, who exhibited the greatest solicitude for the 
safety of a child that, all unconscious of the tumult, lay 
quietly sleeping in its cradle of twisted reeds. 

De Courtenay approached, anxious to relieve her fears, 



416 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

when the nurse, expecting to be torn from her tender 
charge, exclaimed, in barbarous English, " Take not the 
princess from me ! I promised the Lady Elin never to re- 
sign her save to the hands of the good Queen of England." 

" Comfort thee, good woman," said the earl, kindly. " I 
will myself convey thee, with the babe, to Caernarvon, 
where thou may est discharge thy trust by bestowing the 
little orphan with the royal friend of her mother." Con- 
signing the other captives to the care of his knights, he 
gave the nurse in charge to his groom, and himself care- 
fully lifting the wicker cradle with its lovely occupant to the 
horse before him, led the way towards the castle. 

Eleanora received the daughter of Elin de Montfort with 
tears of tender welcome, and lavished upon the child the 
same affection that she bestowed upon her own infant Ed- 
w^ard. The little cousins were nurtured together, and the 
nurse soon became tenderly attached to both children, and 
conceived an almost reverential devotion to the pious 
queen ; and as Eleanora gave her frequent opj)ortunities 
for communion with the natives of the vicinity, she lost no 
occasion of publishing the virtues of her mistress. 

She represented that Eleanora and little Edward were 
scarce inferior in beauty to the Madonna and child, and 
that they were as good as they were beautiful ; and, she 
added, on her own responsibility, that since the queen 
treated Guendoline with as much affection as though she 
were her own daughter, there could be no doubt that she 
looked upon her as the future bride of the young prince. 

Meantime, Edward had prospered in his military plans. 
David could never collect an army sufficient to face the 
English in the field, being chased from hill to hill, and 
hunted from one retreat to another, and was finally betray- 
ed to his enemy and sent to England. 

The Snowdon barons, deprived of their leader, and 
aware that their princess Guendoline was in possession of 
the English king, and somewhat mollified by the prognos- 
tication of her future greatness, at length obeyed the sum- 
mons of Edward to a conference at Caernarvon. The hardy 



ELEANORA. 417 

mountaineers agreed to tender their final submission to him 
as lord paramount, if he would appoint them a native 
Welshman for their prince, who could speak neither Saxon 
nor French, for those barbarous languages they declared 
they could never understand. 

Edward graciously acceded to the request, and the jDre- 
liminaries being arranged he brought from the eagle tower 
the little Edward, assuring them that he was a native of 
"Wales, could speak neither of the reprobated tongues, and, 
under the tutelage of his lovely instructress Guendoline, 
would doubtless soon become a proficient in Welsh. "The 
fierce mountaineers little expected such a ruler. They 
had, however, no alternative but submission, and with as 
good grace as they might, kissed the tiny hand which was 
to sway their sceptre, and vowed fealty to the babe of the 
faithful Eleauora." 



CHAPTER X. 

THE ASTRONOMER AND THE JEW. 

Peace being thus happily established. King Edward 
transferred the residence of his queen from the rugged 
strength of Caernarvon to the magnificent refinements of 
Conway castle ; where, surrounded by her ladies and chil- 
dren, she enjoyed, for a brief period, a repose from anxiety 
and care. 

Here seated in a chamber of state, whose windows of 
stained glass opened upon a terrace, commanding a beauti- 
ful view of the varied landscape, Eleanora passed her 
mornings, receiving those who were honored by being pres- 
ent at her lev^e, while her tire-women combed and braided 
the long; silken tresses which shaded and adorned her serene 
and lovely features. 

This condescension of tlie queen, had a most gracious and 

27 



418 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

softening effect upon the rude customs of the Welsh, and 
the first aspirations of this semi-barbarous nation for chris- 
tian refinement, date from the period in which they felt 
the winning influence of her gentle manners. 

But though Eleanora was thus happy in her domestic re- 
lations, blessed in the love of her subjects, and thrice bles 
sed in the consciousness of exercising her power for the 
happiness of others, she did not forget the kindred ties that 
bound her to her native Spain. 

Indeed there seems to be this peculiarity, observable in 
the influence of the gospel on the character, a paradox in 
philosophy, but a fact in christian experience, that while 
it increases the intensity of the social afiections, it expands 
the heart to the remoter relations of life, awakening a cor- 
dial response to the command, " Thou shalt love thy neigh- 
bor as thyself." 

For Eleanora to know that she could render assistance to 
another, was sufiioient motive to arouse her activity ; and 
constant habit made that an inspiring impulse, which had 
commenced in a rigid adherence to the requisitions of 
duty. When she learned, therefore, that her beloved 
brother Alphonso X. had been deposed by his undutiful 
son, Sancho, she besought her heroic husband to undertake 
the difficult task of his restoration. 

Edward, whose principles of government were of a very 
dift'erent character from those of the royal philosopher, lis- 
tened somewhat reluctantly to her anxious pleadings, but 
at last consented to accompany her into Castile. 

The royal progress was one of the utmost pomp and 
splendor. Their cousin Philip received them in Paris with 
the greatest distinction. They reposed some months among 
the elegancies of Bordeaux, and thence journeyed across 
the Pyrenees to Burgos. 

The brave Sancho welcomed them to his palace with un- 
affected pleasure, and listened with easy good-humor to 
the questions and remonstrances of the queen. 

" My father," said he, " is happier in the retirement of 
his prison, tlian he was ever in the administration of public 



ELEANORA. 419 

aflfairs. In truth, he has for these last years been so occu- 
pied with the motions of Mars and Jupiter, that he has had 
little leisure to attend to the movements of his subjects, 
and, but for what seeraeth my undutiful interposition, our 
fair Castile "would have been one scene of anarchy and con- 
fusion." 

" But if my brother desired the repose of private life, he 
had surely the right to appoint his successor," suggested 
Eleanora. 

" Nay, concerning that, men differ in opinion," replied 
Sancho. " Our ancestors, the Goths, confer the crown 
upon the second son, in preference to the heirs of the elder 
brother, and by this right I reign." 

" But by this right, thou takest from the prince all power," 
returned the queen. 

" And wherefore," said Sancho, " should the word of a 
prince prevail against the will of the people, whose interest 
no king has a right to sacrifice to his ambition ?" 

" Certes, there is great semblance of truth in what thou 
sayest," added Eleanora, thoughtfully ; " and much I won- 
der me that, while some are born to such high estate, others 
in heart possessed of noble feelings are doomed to perpetual 
servitude. My poor brain has been ofttimes sadly puzzled 
in this matter ; but when I bethink me of the miseries fair 
England suffered during the rebellion of Leicester, I con- 
tent myself to believe the holy writ, ' The powers that be, 
are ordained of God.' " 

" Thy scripture well establishes my claim," cried Sancho, 
laughing heartily. 

Eleanora sighed. " Forgettest thou, brave Sancho," said 
she, " that the God who gave to thee the estate and rule of 
king, (since thou dost so wrest my words to prove thy usur- 
pation,) forgettest thou that JTe hath also ordained, ' Thou 
shalt honor thy father?' " 

" Nay, nay, my most gracious aunt, now thou accusest 
me beyond my desert. The wise Alphonso is not restrain- 
ed from his clerkl}^ studies, but — -" 

*' lie is in prison," interrupted Eleanora. 



420 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES, 

" It is my care," continued Sanebo, " to grant him every- 
thing, but freedom to disturb my kingdom. Jews and 
Arabs, his chosen friends, doctors of Salerno and Salaman- 
ca, friars and priests, (though, sooth to say for them, he 
careth little save as they bring him mouldy manuscripts 
from the monasteries,) jugglers and mummers, a worthy 
retinue, have free access to his presence. To-morrow thou 
mayest see the philosopher, surrounded by his motley cour- 
tiers, and methinks thou wilt then pronounce him as do 
others, either fool or madman.' 

King Edward, who from conversation with the nobles of 
Castile, no less than with Sancho, had arrived at the same 
conclusion with his royal nephew, made no eflbrts to re- 
lease Alphonso from his confinement, but gladly accepted 
an invitation to accompany the King of Castile on an expe- 
dition against the Moors in southern Spain. 

During their absence Eleanora remained in Burgos, and 
devoted herself to the care of her brother, for whose sanity 
she began to entertain serious fears. Alphonso's affection 
for his lovely sister so far j^revailed over his excitable tem- 
perament, that he permitted her to enter his apartments at 
all hours without exhibiting any annoyance, and often 
turned aside from his abstruse studies to indulge in remin- 
iscences of their youthful sports, and to satisfy her inqui- 
ries concerning his present pursuits. 

Eleanora possessed that genial spirit which discovers 
something of interest in every occupation, and that ex- 
quisite tact which enabled her to insinuate a truth, even 
while seeming not to contradict an error ; and it was 
soon apparent that, though the philosopher still uttered his 
absurdities with great comjDlacency, — his temper became 
more tranquil, and his manners far more affable to all who 
approached him. The queen listened patiently to his tedi- 
ous explanations of the motions of the planets, and exei-ted 
her utmost jjowers of perception to comprehend the dia- 
grams which he contended were illustrative of the whole theo- 
ry of Nature, and the great end and purpose of her solemn 
mysteries inscribed on the scrull of tlie heavens, form- 



ELEANORA. 421 

ing an elder Scripture more authoritative than the divine 
oracles themselves. 

" Thou seest, my sister," said the enthusiast, " that our 
maturity like our childhood is amused by fables : hence 
do the ignorant believe that this great array of worlds was 
formed for the contemptible purpose of revolving around 
our insignificant planet, and all the glittering circle of the 
stars made to serve no better end than to enliven a winter 
night." 

" In truth the doctrine savors much of the arrogance of 
man," gently returned the queen, " and reminds one of the 
false systems of a monarch who considers his subjects but 
tributaries to his pleasure." 

" False systems," returned the astronomer, apparently 
unheeding the point of her remark, " have disgraced the 
world in every age. Pythagoras approached nearest the 
true idea, and yet was lost in the wilderness of error." 

" Heaven save us from a fate so evil," solemnly ejacu- 
lated the queen. 

" The philosopher, who rejecting the dogmas of the 
church, listens to the voice of Nature speaking to the ear 
of reason, is in no danger of error," said Alphonso pom- 
pously. " Thy Mosaic Testament asserts that God created 
the heavens and the earth in six days ; but they bear no 
marks of such creation. Their course is eternal. And as 
for appointing the glorious sun with no higher mission 
than to enlighten the earth, had the Almighty called me 
to his counsel, I would have taught Him a wiser plan of 
compassing day and night." 

Shocked at his impiety, Eleanora calmly replied, "The 
Holy Word which thou despisest, directs us to ' prove all 
things.' How canst thou sustain such assertions ?" 

Alphonso, pleased with what he considered her docility, 
lifted a small globe, and placing it at a convenient distance 
from the lamp, caused it to revolve upon its axis, making 
her observe that the regular vicissitudes of light and dark- 
ness were produced without any change in the position of 
the luminary. 



422 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADKS. 

" At what infinite expense," said he, " would the lamp 
i*evolve around the globe to produce only the same efiect, 
and to furnish only one world with light ; while any num- 
ber of globes might gyrate about the lamp without loss, 
save an occasional eclipse." 

Struck with the simplicity and evident truth of the illus- 
tration, Eleanora gazed admiringly upon her brother, but 
scarcely had she essayed to frame an answer, when the con- 
versation was interrupted by the entrance of an individual 
— the expression of whose countenance awoke a painful asso- 
ciation in her mind, although in vain she tasked her memo- 
ry to decide where or when she had before heheld him. 
His figure, though concealed by a Spanish doublet, and 
slightly bent with age, had evidently been once tall and 
commanding, and his swarthy countenance was illuminated 
by keen black eyes, w^hose quick penetrating glance, seemed 
at once to fathom the purposes, and divine the thoughts of 
those about him ; and a long flowing beard, somewhat 
inclining to gray, imparted an air of dignity to his whole 
appearance. With a profound, though silent salutation 
to the royal pair, he crossed the apartment, and carefully 
laying aside his cloak, quietly seated himself at a side table 
covered with manuscripts, and commenced his labors ; 
while Alphonso answered the inquiring gaze of Eleanora, 
by remarking, " 'Tis our excellent Procida, my trusty He- 
brew scribe." 

" Hebrew or Arab," said Eleanora, in a low tone, " I 
have seen that face before." 

At the sound of her voice the stranger looked up, while 
Eleanora placed her hands before her eyes, as if to shut 
out some dreadful vision. 

" It cannot, cannot be," she exclaimed, " but so looked 
the Jew, slain at my feet on that dj-eadful day M'hen I first 
entered London." 

" My good Procida," said Alphonso, misinterpreting her 
emotion, " I fear me we must dispense with thy presence, 
since my sister is too good a Christian to look upon a Jew, 
save with feelinc^s of abhorrence." 



ELEANORA. 423 

The Jew arose. " Nay, my good brother," said the 
queen, " forgive this weakness. I would fain speak with thy 
friend." » 

Procida came forward and stood in respectful silence 
waiting her commands. 

" Hast ever been in London ?" inquired she, earnestly re- 
garding him. 

" My noble queen recalls not then the face of Raymond 
Lullius, who coined rose nobles for her royal lord. She 
may, perhaps, remember the curiosity of the young Prince 
Alphonso, whose little hand no doubt still bears the scar 
of the melted metal he snatched from the crucible." 

At the mention of her son, the mother's tears began to 
flow. " My sweet AljDhonso sleeps in the tomb of his an- 
cestors," replied she, when she had somewhat recovered 
her composure ; " but I mind me of the accident, though 
surely 'tis another scene that hath impressed thy features 
on my memory." 

"Your majesty refers to the slaughter of the Jews," re- 
turned Procida, in a sorrowful tone, " and the victim slain 
at your feet was my aged father Ben- Abraham. Of all my 
family I alone escaped, through the timely interposition of 
the gallant Prince Edward." 

'' Ah ! now I comprehend thy haste to serve my brother," 
interrupted Alj)honso. " Thou must kpow, sweet sister 
mine," said he, turning to the queen, " that the secrets of 
our art are for the learned alone, but king as I am, I found 
it impossible to prevent my worthy Procida from leaving 
my court to aid the English sovereign in increasing his 
revenue by transmuting mercury into gold." 

" It is then true that metals can be thus transmuted," 
said Eleanora, with an incredulous smile. 

The alchemists exchanged glances of intelligence, but 
Alphonso, remembering her ready appreciation of -his as- 
tronomical theory, answered Procida's hesitating look, with 
"Nay, 'tis but for once — our sister is an earnest seeker of 
truth, and if she comprehend will not betray our secret." 
Thus saying, Alphonso threw open a door and conducted 



424 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

the queen, followed by Procida, into a small laboratory 
filled with all the mysterious appurtenances of his art. 
The learned doctor busied himself in clearing a space in 
the centre of the aj)artment and arranging in a circle sun- 
dry jars and a brazier, while the philosopher king, opening 
a cabinet, took thence some dried and withered sea-weed, 
which he threw into the brazier and kindled into a flame. 
The blazing kelp was soon reduced to ashes, which Procida 
carefully gathered into an old empty crucible, and set 
before the queen. Alphonso advancing took up the cruci- 
ble, saying, " What seest thou, my sister ?" 

" A dull, gray powder," she rej)lied. 

He then placed a tube from one of the jars within the 
crucible, and bidding her regard it attentively, submitted 
it to a chemical process which she did not understand, re- 
peating his question. 

" I now see," replied Eleanora, with astonishment, " the 
dull j)Owder transformed into little shining globules like 
silver." 

" Thou mayst take them in thine hand," said the phi- 
losopher, after a pause ; " they will not harm thee." 

With some timidity the wondering queen received the 
metallic drops, almost fearing that her brother was a necro- 
mancer as the priests affirmed. 

" Canst judge if it be a metal ?" said Alphonso, enjoying 
her confusion. 

" My sight and touch assure me of the fact. Yet 
whence — " 

" Is it not a miracle," interrupted the philosopher, laugh- 
ing, " more real than thy fancied transubstantiation?" 

A frown gathered on the serene brow of the lovely queen 
— but commiserating his impiety as sincerely as he pitied 
her ignorance, with forced gaj^ety she replied, " Nay, 
heaven w^orks not miracles by tlie hands of such unbeliev- 
ers as thou. I fear me lest evil spirits have aided thee, as 
they did the Egyptians with their enchantments ;" and she 
handed the globules to the philosopher. 



KLEANORA. 425 

" Keep tliem safely until the morrow," said he, " they 
may form the basis of another experiment." 

As the Queen of England left the prison, Procida follow- 
ed her and craved an audience. 



CHAPTER XI. 

THE JEWESS. 

The conference between the queen and Procida was not 
limited to one audience. Day after day he sought her 
presence, under various pretexts — some unimportant busi- 
ness, some message from Alphonso — and each time he 
lingered as if anxious to j^rolong the interview ; till at 
length his strange manner convinced Eleanora that some 
thing more momentous than philosophical researches de- 
tained him in Castile. 

AVhen the mind is agitated upon any particular subject, 
fancy connects every mysterious appearance with the j^re- 
vailing thought ; and the lovely queen became impressed 
with the idea that some impending danger threatened her 
royal brother. 

She therefore strove to win the confidence of Procida, 
and encouraged him to confide his secret to her keeping. 

"Is there aught," said she, "of interest to thyself or 
others in which I can aid thee ?" finding that his anxiety 
and hesitation seemed rather to increase than diminish. 

" Most gracious sovereign," returned Procida, apologeti- 
cally, " the despised outcasts of Israel have little hope to 
enlist the sympathies of Christians in their behalf." 

" Nay," replied the queen, " thou, forgettest that our 
gospel saith, God hath made of one blood all the nations 
of the earth." 

"And if /have forgotten it," said Procida bitterly, " it 
is because the practice of the church agreeth not with the 
precept." 

"It is true," returned Eleanora, with a sigh, "that our 



426 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

lives exhibit too little the holy influence of the faith we 
profess : but tell me, how can the wife of Edward serve the 
alchemist ?" 

" Noble queen," said Procida, speaking earnestly and 
with great agitation, " thou knowest not the peril in which 
thy generosity may involve thee." 

" Speak, and fear not," reiterated she, " Eleanoi'a fears 
no evil in the practice of. kindness." 

Fixing his keen eyes upon her face, as if to detect every 
emotion which his words might awaken, the Jew replied 
bitterly, " Procida for his attachment to the noble house 
of Swabia, is proscribed and hunted from Sicily, his daugh- 
ter, a Jewess, can scarce claim the protection of law ; and 
concealed as she is in the suburbs of Burgos, her beauty 
has already attracted the curiosity of those from whom her 
father cannot defend her. Did I dare claim so great a 
boon I would beg a place for her among thy maidens."' 

Eleanora paused. The prejudice against the Jews was 
so intense as to affect even' her upright mind ; and the 
scandal it might bring upon the royal household to enroll 
an unbeliever among its inmates, startled her apprehen- 
sions : but the father stood before her with the air of one 
who had intrusted his last treasure to her keeping, and she 
could not find it in her heart to crush his confidence in her 
generosity. 

" Bring thy daughter hither," added .she, thoughtfully, 
" with me she shall be safe." 

" The blessing of him that is ready to perish, rest upon 
thee," said the scholar, fervently, as he left her presence. 

When the Queen of England next visited the apart- 
ments of her brother, she was accompanied by a young 
girl of such surpassing loveliness as to attract the attention 
of the philosopher himself. Her features were Of that per- 
fect form generally described as Grecian, while her dark 
hair and soft black eyes, suggested the idea of a brunette ; 
but the fairness of her complexion and the brilliant color 
of her cheek, that varied with every emotion, gave a char- 
acter of exquisite delicacy and sensibility to her countenance. 



ELEANORA. 427 

"Does thy realm of England abonnd in sncli comely 
damsels ?" inquired Alplionso, while Agnes blushed at the 
king's encomium. 

" England may rival Spain in the beauty of her daugh- 
ters," answered Eleanora, evasively. " My gentle Agnes 
is curious like her mistress to learn the wonders of thy art : 
hence do we crave thine indulgence to pass some weary- 
hours of my lord's absence among thy folios." 

" Thou art ever welcome," returned Alphonso, benig- 
nantly, " and this young disciple shall receive the benefit 
of serving so good a mistress." 

" I have pondered much," said the queen, who had been 
for some time attentively regarding the care-worn linea- 
ments of his face, " upon thy theory of the planets. The 
globe moved around the lamp because thou didst bear it in 
thine hand. By what power is our Earth carried around 
the Sun?" 

" There is some invisible influence which retains it with 
its sister-orbs in the eternal round, but the subtle essence 
has thus far eluded my investigations," replied Alphonso. 

" Thou believest then, my brother," said Eleanora, in 
her gentlest tone, " in a power whose existence thou canst 
not demonstrate by thy ' Tables' or diograms ?" 

" Ycrily, such a power is a matter of necessity^'''' returned 
the monarch. 

" And thy unlearned sister," replied the queen, hesita- 
ting, " finds the same necessity to believe in a God, whose 
existence she can demonstrate only by the contemplation 
of his glorious works." 

" It is well for the ignorant to repose in this idea," re- 
plied Alphonso, " and it may perchance restrain the wicked 
from his misdeeds, to believe that an ever-present Intelli- 
gence regards his actions." 

" And it may comfort the sorrowing," said Eleanora, " to 
feel that this Infinite Power can satisfy the needs of the 
human soul." 

" Hast thou brought the metal I gave thee ?" said Al- 
phonso, abruptly changing the conversation. 



428 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES, 

" I have it in my gjpsire," said she, unclasping the bag 
and unfolding the paper — " Lo ! my brother, what a trans- 
formation is here," exclaimed the queen, in amazement. 
"Thy silver has again become ashes." 

" Grieve not," said the alchemist, with an air of superior 
wisdom, " Science will achieve new wonders with these 
dull atoms." 

He now placed the powder in the crucible as before, and 
taking from a shelf what seemed a fragment of rock, pul- 
verized it to a like powder, and mingled both in the cruci- 
ble, which he placed upon the brazier and subjected it to a 
most intense heat. 

" What dost thou now observe ?" said the alchemist. 

" A melted glowing mass of a ruby color," said Eleano- 
ra, with great interest. 

Taking a small rod in his hand he lifted the adhering 
particles, and drew them into thin, fine hair, like threads 
of a shining whiteness, which he presented to Agnes, say- 
ing, with a smile, " I will bestow these frail crystals upon 
thee, fair one ; perchance thou mayst preserve them in 
memory of the mad philosopher." 

Every day the Queen of England became more interested 
in the society of her lovely ward, whose sprightliness was 
tempered by a sweetness, and a delicate discrimination, that 
never gave offence. It was gratifying to observe, in a fancy 
cultivated by the poetic legends of the South, and stored 
with the splendid fictions of Arabian romance, an ardent 
love of truths and a strict adherence to its dictates ; and 
Eleanora saw with pleasure that her most playful and en- 
tertaining sallies, though sometimes pointed at the pecu- 
liarities of those around her, never betrayed ill-humor, nor 
degenerated into sarcasm. Her beauty and gayety forci- 
bly recalled the image of Eva ; but the reliance which the 
obedient Jewess inspired, was in strong contrast to the 
anxiety ever awakened by the lovely, but volatile daughter 
of Clare. 

The charming Agnes not only amused the queen with 
her vivacity, but afforded her a sense of repose, by her 



ELEANORA. 429 

amiable observance of every admonition, and her evident 
desire to regard the wishes no less than the positive com- 
mands of her royal benefactress, and especially did she 
win the love of the mother by her graceful attentions to the 
infant Princess Beatrice. 

While Agnes was actuated by the most dutiful affection 
to her father, she seemed by a happy trustfulness to escape 
participation in that gloom and care which daily deepened 
upon the clouded brow of the Sicilian. 

Desirous to relieve what she deemed his apprehensions 
for the future welfare of his daughter, the queen took occa- 
sion, upon one of his visits, to assure him of her increasing 
attachment to her lovely charge. 

" Thy generous interest in the despised exile softens my 
bitter fate," said he, " but could the unhappy Procida en- 
list the influence of England's gracious sovereign in the 
great project that preys upon his being, he would feel that 
he had not lived in vain." 

" My lord the king is ever ready to assist the unfortu- 
nate," said Eleanora, encouragingly, " and is free from those 
prejudices which embarrass weaker minds. If thou deem- 
est it proper to reveal thy secret, his queen will herself en- 
deavor to redress thy wrongs." 

" Procida seeks not the redress of a personal affi-ont, nor 
restoration to his island home ; my joroject is," said the 
Sicilian, drawing near the queen, and speaking in a low 
tone of terrible emphasis, '-'•revenge! — death to the infa- 
mous Charles d'Anjou !" 

The startled Eleanora essayed no reply, but gazed in mute 
terror at the dark and malignant face of the conspirator. 

" Yes," continued he, his tall figure dilating with long 
repressed and cherished passion, " I will rouse all Europe 
with the wrongs of the noble house of Suabia." 

"I know," said the queen, the words faintly struggling 
through her white lips, " the woes inflicted upon oui' 
cousins of Suabia by the relentless fury of the Guelphs, but 
I dare not assume the oflice of their judge. It is written, 
' Yengeance is mine, I will repay it, saith the Lord.' " 



430 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

" Aye, verily," rej)lied the Jew, fiercely, " but how does 
the Lord repay vengeance ? Is it not by the hand of man 
he brings retribution upon the guilty ? Did he not commis- 
sion the sword to cut off the Canaanites, the Midianites, 
the Assyrians, and those who vexed his people in every 
age ? Who can say he hath nc t inspired the heart, and 
nerved the arm of the proscribed and outcast Jew to exe- 
cute his wrath upon the proud tyrant of Sicily ?" 

" Thou^'' inquired the queen. "By what title claimest 
^Am^ allegiance to that fallen house ?" 

" I know," said Procida, stung by her remark, " full well 
I know, that your Holy Church denies to the son of Abra- 
ham all the tender ties that bind the lord to his vassal, or 
the vassal to his lord. He may have neither house nor 
land, he may not dwell in Jerusalem the city of his fathers, 
or be buried in consecrated ground. His possessions be- 
come the spoil of the tyrant, his innocent offspring the 
victims of brutal passion ; and yet your priests say, — Be 
meek — Be patient — Obey the precepts of that gosj^el which 
we trample under foot." 

He paused, struck by the compassionate gaze of Eleano- 
ra, who, for the first time, comprehended the hopeless 
misery of the hapless race. 

" Thy pardon, noble queen," said Procida, softened by 
her tender pity. " Were there more like thee, 'twere 
easier for the Jew to embrace the faith of the Nazarene. 
Thou didst inquire b}' what tie I followed the changing 
fortunes of Hohenstaufen." In a gentler tone he continued — 

" The Jew loves gold. Loves he aught else ? Yea, to 
the death his friend. The Emperor Frederic was free from 
the chains of superstition. Christian, Saracen, or Jew, 
found equal favor in his eye, and learning and genius not 
less than military prowess were rewarded with titles and 
lands. 

" Know me, then, royal lady, miserable and destitute as 
I appear, as favorite physician of the emperor, created by 
him Count de Procida, lord of the fairest island in the Bay 
of Naples." 



KLEANORA. 431 

CHAPTER XII. 

THE FATE OF THE HOUSE OF SUABIA. 

The soft climate of the south, and the rich and varied 
scenery upon the banks of the Arlanzon, invited Eleanora 
to long walks in the suburbs of Burgos : and she found the 
greatest delight in watching the changing foliage, which 
announced the approach of the mellow autumn. 

Her recent interviews with the philosopher had given a 
new direction to her thoughts. She experienced a pleasure 
before unknown in studying the various aspects of nature, 
and contemplating the subtle arrangement by which all 
these beautiful phenomena w^ere produced. New proofs 
of an All-creative Intelligence were daily forced upon her 
with peculiar distinctness, and her mind was thus fortified 
against the cold, insinuating doubts, with which her brother 
continually assailed her faith. Often she became so lost in 
reflection as to be insensible to all external circumstances, 
and her ladies, loosed from the restraints of court etiquette, 
revelled in the unwonted freedom of these rural strolls. 
Eleanora was often lured from her sj)eculative abstraction 
by the sportive gayety of their amusements, and she saw 
with benevolent pleasure the ready tact with which the 
young Jewess avoided every inquiry that might lead to a 
discovery of her nation or position, without in the least 
compromising lier truthfulness or transgressing the rul-es of 
courtesy. 

During one of these rambles, a mendicant of the order 
of St. Francis approached the queen, and asked an alms. 
The smoothly-shaven chin of the monk, closely clipped 
hair, and unsandalled feet, at first completely imposed upon 
her credulity, but his voice at once betrayed Procida. 

"With a troubled look she gave him a few denier^ as if 
desirous to escape all parley. But the monk lingered ; and 
after a pause, hesitatingly remarked in a low tone, ''I am 



432 HEROINF.S OF THE CRUSADKS. 

about to leave Burgos, and I would fuiu confer with the 
queen before inv di'|)ir^ui\." 

" But wherefore the monkish habit ? Has the Jew re- 
solved to do penance for his sins ?" inquired Eleanora. 

" Nay," replied Procida, evasively, " if my gracious uns- 
tress will grant me an audience, I will unfold to her the 
purpose that hath moved me to this disguise." 

"I cannot tell," replied the queen, with a tone of un- 
wonted reproach, " if it be desirable to entrust thy plans 
to my keeping, since I may not encourage deceit, and I 
would not that thy Agnes, so innocent of guile, should 
learn that her father, for some dark purpose, has assumed 
the garb he abhors." 

Tears glistened in the eyes of Procida, as he replied, 
" Thou sayest well and wisely. The sweet child knoweth 
not more of the secret schemes of her father, than do the 
angels of the dark deeds of fiends. But — " 

" 1 hear the voice of my maidens," exclaimed the queen 
impatiently, " expose not thyself to their observation." 

" Benedicitey'' murmured the counterfeit priest, turning 
away to avoid the scrutiny of the approaching group. 

But Procida was so determined to secure the approba- 
tion of the queen, that the following day he craved an 
audience at the palace. 

" My royal mistress," said he, "must j^ermit me once 
more, to plead the rights of the illustrious house of Suabia, 
before I depart on my pilgrimage, that if I never return, 
she may justify my acts in the eyes of my daughter." 

" Speak," said Eleanora, moved by the sorrowful earnest- 
ness of his manner. 

" My royal master Frederic," began the Jew, " had little 
cause to love the church. Hated by the pope, for that 
with a strong arm he claimed his hereditary possessions in 
Italy, he was excommunicated for refusing the pilgrimage, 
and again cursed for fulfilling his vow ; and had not the 
honest pagan, Melech Camel, been more his friend than 
the christian troops by whom he was surrounded, he would 
have perished by treason in the Holy City itself. 



ELEANORA. 433 

" Fr-eed from superstition, he looked u]30u all religions as 
formed to impose upon the vulgar; and it was through his 
instructions, that I learned the policy of conforming to the 
prejudices of mankind, and now avail myself of the priv- 
ileges of an order, who wander everywhere, and are every- 
where well received. 

" The emperor, like thy brother Alphonso, was a man of 
science. He opened schools in Sicily, and maintained poor 
scholars from his own purse, and by every means promoted 
the welfare of his subjects ; but he could not escaj)e the 
toils spread around him by his great enemy the church." 

As he said these words the queen beheld in his eyes the 
same vengeful fire that once had before so startled and 
shocked her. 

" Thy pardon, sovereign lady," said he, recollecting him- 
self, " but the wrongs of the master have well-nigh mad- 
dened the brain of the servant. 

" His own son Henry, wrought upon by the malicious 
representations of the pope, revolted, and his beautiful 
boy Enzio, pined away his young life in the prison of Bo- 
logna. The great Frederic died ; and his wretched Procida 
vowed to avenge him upon his murderers." He paused a 
moment overcome by his emotions, and then continued, 
*' There 3'et remained Conrad and Manfred: the former, 
only son of the Queen of Jerusalem, and the latter, ille- 
gitimate offspring of a Saracen woman. Conrad passed 
into Italy to claim his inheritance, only to be poisoned by 
the pope ; while Manfred, calling around him the friends 
of his mother, battled for his father's strongholds and 
treasures. He was brave, generous and noble. He would 
have made peace even with his enemy, but the tyrant 
d'Anjou spurned his overtures, and insultingly replied to 
the messenger, ' Go tell the Sultan of Kocera, that I de- 
sire war only, and this very day I will send him to hell, or 
he shall send me to Paradise.' He prepared for the con- 
flict. As he fastened on his helmet it twice slipped from 
his grasp. ' It is the hand of God,' was his exclamation, 
and with a presentiment of his fall, he hurried to the fight. 

28 



434 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES, 

I stood by bis side in tbe bloody battle of Eenevento, and 
we made a holocaust of our enemies ; but a fatal spear 
pierced his brain ! The implacable d'Anjou would have 
the poor excommunicated corpse remain unburied, but the 
French soldiers, less barbarous than their master, brought 
each a stone, and so reared him a tomb." 

" Tell me no more horrors," exclaimed the queen, with a 
look of painful emotion. 

" Ah ! lady," said the artful Procida, sadly, satisfied that 
his recital had so moved his royal auditor, " thou art 
grieved at the very hearing of these atrocities, but bethink 
thee of the misery of the poor daughter of Frederic, wife 
of the Duke of Saxony. When the family fell, the duke 
repented of his alliance with the house of Suabia. From 
cold neglect and scorn, he proceeded to violence — he bru- 
tally struck her. She, unhappy woman, thinking he sought 
her life, endeavored to escape. The castle rose upon a 
rock overhanging the Elbe. A faithful servant kept a boat 
upon the river, and by a rope, she could let herself down 
the precipitous descent. An agonizing thought stayed her 
footsteps. Her only son lay asleep in the cradle. She 
would once more fold him to her breast. She would im- 
j^rint her last kiss upon his cheek. With a maddening 
pang she closed her teeth in the tender flesh, and fled, pur- 
sued by the screams of her wounded child. The treach- 
erous rope eluded her grasp, and the frantic mother fell, 
another victim from the doomed race of Hohenstaufen. 

" The little Corradino, who should have been King of Je- 
rusalem, had also a mother, tender and fond, who would 
fain have detained him from funereal Italy, where all his 
family had found a sepulchre ; but ere he attained the age 
of manhood the Ghibelline cities called to him for aid, and 
no entreaties could withhold the valiant youth. Accompa- 
nied by his dearest friend, Frederic of Austria, and a band 
of knights, he passed the Alps to claim his inheritance. 
There was a battle — there was a defeat — there w^as a prison- 
er — The Yicar of Christ, showed he mercy ? He wrote 
to d'Anjou^ ' Corradino's life is Charles's death.' Judges 



ELEANORA. 435 

were named, a strange and nnbeard-of proceeding ; but of 
these some defended Corradino, and the rest remained 
silent. One alone, found him guiltj^, and began to read 
his sentence upon the scaffold. But outraged nature as- 
serted her rights, d'Anjou's own son-in-law leaped upon the 
scaffold and slew the inhuman judge with one stroke of his 
sword, exclaiming, ' 'Tis not for a wretch like thee to con- 
demn to death so noble and gentle a lord.' But the execu- 
tion proceeded. I stood among the spectators a shaven 
priest, honoring the decrees of the church! I heard the 
piteous exclamation of the hapless youth, ' Oh my mother, 
what sad news will bring thee of thy son.' His eye caught 
mine, he slipped a ring from his finger, and threw it into 
the crowd. I seized the precious jewel, and renewed my 
vow of vengeance. The faithful Frederic of Austria stood 
by his side, and was the first to receive the fatal stroke. 
Corradino caught the bleeding head, as it fell, pressed his 
own upon the quivering lips, and perished like his friend. 
'Lovely and pleasant in their lives, in death they were not 
divided.' " 

Tears for a moment quenched the fire in the old man's 
eyes, and Eleanora wept in sympathy. "And Enzio — ?" 
she said, mournfully. 

" Enzio yet languished in prison, the delicate boy, the 
idol of his imperial father. I found my way to Bologna, 
gold bribed his guard. An empty wine-cask was at hand, I 
enclosed him therein, and brought him safely to the gates. 
A single lock of hair betrayed my secret. ' Ha !' exclaimed 
the sentinel, ' 'tis only King Enzio has such beautiful fair 
hair.' I escaped with difficulty, but the boy was slain." 

" Lives there not one of all the princely house ?" inquired 
the queen. 

" Frederic the Bitten lives, the deadly enemy of his 
father, and the daughter of Manfred is the wife of the 
Prince of Arragon. To her I carry the ring. A Saracen 
servant of the empei'or ascribes to it magic virtues. It 
shall be the talisman to bind Europe in a league against 
the infamous d'Anjou." 



4:36 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

" Mj brother! knows Le of thy purpose ?" inquired Ele* 
anora, apprehensively. 

"I entered Castile to secure his assistance, and devoted 
myself to the practice of alchemy, to gain his confidence ; 
but the philosopher is too intent upon the science of dull 
atoms to mingle in political strife." 

" Thank heaven ! that his studies keep him innocent of 
human blood," ejaculated the queen. " Wouldst ought 
with me ?" inquired she, after a pause, observing that the 
Jew remained silent with his eyes fixed upon her. 

"Let my gracious queen pardon her servant, that he 
hath so long detained her with his tale of horror. Some- 
thing I would add concerning my sweet Agnes. Call her 
not a Jewess. Her father hath long since abjured the 
burdensome rites of Judaism, and her mother — 'tis enough 
to say that she resembled the Queen of England. Though 
I trust not in the pious fables of the priests, they seemed to 
charm her gentle spirit into peace. Let Agnes, therefore, 
I pray thee, be instructed in her mother's faith." 

" Thy wishes shall be strictly regarded," replied Eleano- 
ra, " and may the same peace thou covetest for thy daugh- 
ter, yet find its way to thy own unquiet breast." 



CHAPTER XIII. 

TRANSLATION OF THE BIBLE. 

Each time the queen visited the laboratory of Alphonso, 
he made her acquainted with some new fact in philosophy, 
or some new device of alchemy, which awakened curiosity 
and gave rise to inquiry. The Spanish king, having made 
some discoveries in advance of the age, had fallen into the 
popular error of philosophers, that of repudiating all pre- 
established doctrines and maxims. Having laid down the 
theory that matter was eternal, and all external appear- 
jinces the result of natural change, he was at infinite pains 



ELEANORA. 437 

to account for all phenomena so as not to conflict with this 
proposition. The unbiased mind of Eleanora often de- 
tected in his assertions a vagueness of expression which 
passed for argument, but which evidently imposed less 
upon his auditors than upon himself. 

" Nature," said he, " arranges her work in circles : hence 
is the sky a dome, the earth a convex ball, and each minute 
atom of a globular form. The seasons roll their perpetual 
round, and as a ring hath neither beginning nor end, so 
must the material universe be eternal. The acorn groweth 
into the oak, and the oak again produceth the acorn ; all 
"-outward manifestations are but parts in the great universal 
machine." 

Eleanora, who had been attentively regarding an inge- 
nious invention of the king's, interrupted this tirade, by re- 
marking, " A few months before I left England, I visited 
the cell of friar Bacon, in Oxford. But I saw nothing in 
his laboratory so curious and wonderful as this work of my 
brother's." 

The philosopher, flattered with the encomium, turned at 
once to exhibit the design of the machine. She followed 
his explanation with the greatest apparent interest ; and 
when he had finished, replied, " In all these curious ar- 
I'angements, I trace the wisdom of my brother ; and it is 
that which gives me the greatest pleasure ; and when I see 
the beneficent purposes for which it is designed, I feel a 
deeper veneration for the mind that could plan so skilfully." 

She took a bunch of flowers from the hand of Agnes and 
approached the king. " I have been observing," said she, 
" the curious arrangement of these frail leaves, five green 
supporters, five yellow petals, five slender threads, and one 
central spire. 1 have gathered thousands of them in my 
rambles, and the same perfect number is found in every 
one. It has led me to inquire if ITature be not like my 
brother, a mathematician." 

The workings of Alphonso's face showed how closely the 
simple truth of this proposition had driven home. " Na- 
ture," said he, " is an active principle, whose changes nei- 



438 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

ther add to, nor detract from, the original matter of the 
universe. The metals," continued he, seeing she was about 
to respond, " the metals, my philosophical sister, form the 
basis of everything. T have detected iron in human blood, 
and a lustrous substance like that thou sawest in common 
ashes ; hence do the alchemists believe that gold, the most 
precious of all, is scattered through nature, as the seeds of 
vegetation are scattered in earth, requiring only the proper 
gases to develop it and make it abundant as the pebbles on 
the shore." 

" And have these gases been able to effect the desirable 
changes ?" inquired the queen. 

" There are innumerable obstacles in the way of these 
momentous inquiries," said the enthusiast. " Nature re- 
sists intrusion into her arcana, and I grieve to say, that we 
have not yet been able to bring about a definite result. 
Science has achieved only the procuring of the gases, while 
there remains still the nicer problem — to mix them in their 
right proportions, at their proper temperatures ; for the 
nascent metal is more delicate than the embryo plant, and 
an excess of heat or cold destroys like frost or blight." 

"Ah, me!" said Eleanora, with a sigh; "before this 
great end be accomplished I fear me my brother will have 
passed away, and then all this toil and research will be 
lost." 

" My sister," said Alphonso, abandoning his labors and 
seating himself, " thou hast unconsciously touched the 
thorn that rankles deepest in my breast. In nature, 
nothing seems made in vain ; even decay produces new 
life, and man alone, the crowning work of all, seems made 
to no purpose." 

" I have sometimes thought," said Eleanora, as if an- 
swering her own reflections, rather than replying to her 
brother's remarks, " that man might perhaps be made for 
the pleasure of a higher order of intelligence, as the lower 
orders of creation seem formed for our gratification, and 
that all our miseries spring from an attempt to thwart this 
plan." 



KLE ANOKA. 489 

" If thy thought be not the true solution of man's destinj^, 
I know not what end he serves in the great scheme of ex- 
istence," returned Alphonso, sadly ; " I have passed 
through various vicissitudes of life, from the greatness of 
earthly state to the poverty of a prison, and I have derived 
more pleasure from the achievements of science than from 
all my hereditary honors. And yet even these do not 
satisfy the longings of my nature." 

" The scripture teaches us, that the superior intelligences 
find delight in benefitting mortals ; and acting upon this 
hint the good have taught us, that to be blest ourselves we 
must seek to bless others," said Eleanora. 

" True," replied the philosopher, breaking out once more 
into his old enthusiasm, "1 have sometimes found allevia- 
tion from the weariness of my thoughts in the reflection, 
that the sciences in which I am engaged will one day exer- 
cise a wider and more perfect control over the destiny of 
the human race, than all the military orders backed by the 
sanction of ecclesiastical decrees. Science will ^^^en the 
door to Art ; and her triumphant ofispring, in a train of 
skillful inventions, shall pass on through long ages, break- 
ing down the stern barriers of kingdoms, and uniting man- 
kind in a common interest ; war shall give place to useful 
Labor, and Science abrogating labor in its turn, shall satis- 
fy the wants of the human race, accomplishing by a touch 
that which requires the might of thousands. Men shall 
then have leisure to perform the rites that lift the veil of 
Isis, and perhaps find means to question Nature even in 
the innermost recesses of her temple." 

" Oh ! life ! life !" said the philosopher, in an accent of 
despair, " why art thou so brief? Why must I die without 
discovering the sublime agencies ?" 

Eleanora waited in compassionate silence till her brothei' 
resumed in a calmer tone, "Think me not mad, my sister. 
If the feeble attempts of an imj^risoned king, and a clois- 
tered friar, can produce the wondrous results of which thou 
hast been witness, what shall the end be, when men free to 
pursue these investigations shall win the rich guerdon of 



440 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

fame and pecuniary reward ? Thou hast heard, perchance, 
of the magician Albertus Magnus, who constructed a human 
figure, which performed the office of a servant ; and of the 
stupid priest Thomas Aquinas, who, alarmed by the appear- 
ance of the automaton which opened the door and ushered 
liira in with ceremonious obeisance, destroyed with one 
blow the work of years." 

"I can forgive his terror," said Eleauora, "for I well re- 
member my own affright, when the brazen head contrived 
by Friar Bacon, rolled along on the table towards me, and 
uttered *" jpax 'VoMscum'* with startling distinctness." 

"Albertus Magnus performed a still more astonishing 
work," continued Alpbonso. " At a banquet which he gave 
in the garden of his cloister, in the depth of winter, trees 
appeared covered with leaves and flowers, which vanished 
as if by enchantment, when the guests rose to depart." 

" By what means were these wonderful works produced?" 
said Eleanora, with astonishment. 

"Witn the mode of this operation I am not familiar," re- 
turned the philosopher. " Doubtless by some of the pow- 
erful agents alchemy reveals to its votaries." 

" And what dost tliuu consider the chief agent in the 
universe ?" said Eleanora, with the air of one inquiring 
after truth. 

" Nature," returned the philosopher, emphatically. 

" And will it pain my brother, if his unlearned sister 
call that great agent, who brings the flowers and leaves 
upon the trees in their season, by the name of God ?" 

" Certainly, the name can affect nothing," replied Al- 
pbonso ; " and if thy priest require it of thee, sin not against 
him, by a more liberal view." 

" And if the ignorant mass, who cannot be enlightened 
by thy theories, are restrained from vice by the thought 
that an Omniscient Being takes note of their actions, would 
it be well to free them from the necessary monitor ?" in- 
quired his sister. 

" It is doubtless well for man to be deterred from evil 



ELEANOEA. 441 

bj salutary fear, till he rises to more exalted capabilities," 
replied Alphonso. 

" Aud art willing," suggested Eleanora, cautiously, "to 
administer to this wholesome necessity until thy divine 
philosophy become sufficiently perfected to renovate their 
character." 

" What priestly scheme hast thou in hand ?" said her 
brother, regarding her with a look of mirthful curiosity. 

"Thou knowest how dearly I love the Castilian lan- 
guage," returned the queen, " and I would that my brother 
should perpetuate his fame by that which will benefit his 
subjects. The sight of thy Jewish scribes, suggested the 
thought that it would be easy for thee to procure the trans- 
lation of the Scriptures into our mother tongue." 

The philosopher remained silent for a moment, and then 
answered, " knowest thou the effect of the measures thou 
proposest ?" 

" I conceive," replied Eleanora, " that it will make thy 
people more virtuous and happy, and," added she, mindful 
of his foible, " prepare them to receive all the additional 
light to which thy investigations may lead." 

" There will be another effect, which, perhaps thou dost 
not anticipate," replied Alphonso. " It will overthrow the 
power of the priesthood ; for as now each man inquires of 
his confessor concerning his duty, he will, if enabled to 
read the boasted oracles, claim the right to interpret for 
himself. But thy experiment shall be tried, and now I be- 
think me, those learned scribes which our benevolent son 
Sancho hath permitted us to employ in transcribing the 
laws of Spain into the language of Castile, shall be placed 
under thy direction for this important work. 

Thus the object for which Eleanora had so long and so 
patiently prayed and planned, progressed under the aus- 
pices of a man who affected to despise the truths he yet 
condescended to propagate ; and while the philosopher 
gave critical attention to the correctness of the work, he 
found leisure to complete his Astronomical tables, and to 
commence the first general history of Spain. 



442 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

AN ACCIDENT. 

To THE monotony of a winter which the absence of the 
gallant cavaliers had rendered doubly tedious to the ladies 
of the royal household, succeeded a balmy spring. The 
favorite haunt of Eleanora, by the side of a noisy stream, 
which escaping from its icy chain among the hills, hurried 
away through the ravine, leaping up to clasp the overhang- 
ing rock in its wild embrace, and showering its silver spray 
upon the weeping boughs that fringed its bank, was again 
carpeted with mossy green, and draped with the bright gar- 
niture of May. 

The view from this romantic spot commanded upon the 
right the city of Burgos, built upon the declivity of a hill, 
and on the left, a flowery path leading along the bank of 
the stream, which it crossed by a foot-bridge, wound up the 
cliff till it entered upon extensive plains that stretched out 
to the west, and afforded rich pasturage for numerous flocks 
which fed upon the luxuriant herbage. 

One sunny afternoon, Eleanora, becoming deeply ab- 
sorbed in her brother's history of the i-eign of their father, 
Ferdinand the Holy, allowed the maidens, protected by the 
squires and pages, to climb the prohibited cliff, which, ever 
since it had begun to assume its summer garb, had been a 
strong temptation to their footsteps. Occupied with her 
manuscript, she was unconscious of the laj)se of time, but 
an occasional sound of merry voices, mingling harmonious- 
ly with the pleasant reflections that filled her mind, inspired 
her with a feeling of security and peace. It was nearly 
sunset when she finished her task, and the chill dews ad- 
monished her of the lateness of the hour ; but when she 
raised her eyes, not a human being was within call. The 
sentinel page, presuming upon his mistress' abstraction, had 
strolled across the bridge and ascended the hill after his 
companions, and the queen began to be alarmed lest the 



ELEANORA. 443 

giddy party should defer their return till darkness had in- 
creased the danger of the mountain path. She gazed in 
every direction, and listened intently to every sound. The 
breeze rustled the branches, and the river gurgled on its 
wa}^, but all else was still. Suddenly she perceived on the 
extremity of the cliff, the rocks of which sank sheer down 
to the water's edge, her maidens hurrying to the rescue of 
a lamb, that, having strayed from the care of the shepherd, 
startled the echoes with its j)iteous cries. Agnes was fore- 
most, and as she tripped along unconscious of the abyss 
which the pendant foliage concealed from her sight, and 
clasped the snowy foundling to her lovely breast, her slight 
figure bathed in the bright gold of the western sky seemed 
the impersonation of the angel of mercy. "With a glad 
shout of exultation she turned to exhibit her prize, when 
the treacherous earth gave way beneatli her feet, and wiri: 
her fleecy burden she was precipitated into the stream, 
nearly opposite the spot which the queen, breathless with 
alarm, had just reached. Screams of helpless terror ren, 
the air. The squires ran each in a different direction, 
hoping to find some point from which they could desceru 
the cliff, while the poor girl floated rapidly down the stream, 
rising and sinking with the swelling waves. . Quick a.- 
tiionght, Eleanora caught up a fallen branch that lay upo;. 
the bank, and extended it for her rescue. The drowning: 
Agnes seized it with one hand, and the queen, with great 
exertion, had drawn her almost to the shore, when the trail 
support gave way, and the mad waters again enveloped her 
form. As she sank, the animal struggled from her grasp and 
gained the bank. 

" Save her ! Oh God in mercy save her !" exclaimed Elea- 
nora, clasping her hands in agony. At this moment a 
Bolitar}' pedestrian turning an angle in the path, approached, 
and attracted by the cry of distress quickened his pace. 
"There! there!" exclaimed the queen, pointing with a 
frantic gesture to the spot where Agnes had disappeared. 
AVithout a word, the stranger threw his staff and cloak upon 
the ground, and }>lunged into the stream. But the rapa- 



444 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

cious tide had borne her beyond his reach. On he swam, 
bufi'eting the waves with a strong arm, now searching the 
depths, and now scanning the ruffled surface, till finding 
every efibrt unavailing, he paused amid the whirling eddies, 
as if irresolute to seek the shore or continue the fruitless 
search. At this moment a small fair hand gleamed in the 
water before him, vainly clasping the idle waves, as if 
reaching for the broken reed that had so deceived its hope. 
He grasped the tiny hand in his own, raised the sinking 
form, and, renerved by the joy of success, and the shouts 
of those who approached in tumultuous haste, by a few 
strokes of his powerful arm gained the shore. Every hand 
was extended for his assistance ; but the stranger heeded 
not the profiiered aid, and kneeling upon the velvet turf he 
pressed the senseless form in his arms, and regarded the 
face that lay so fixed and still upon his breast, with a mute 
anxiety that held his features almost as rigid as those on 
which he gazed. While the balance thus trembles between 
life and death, every voice is dumb and every breath suj)- 
pressed. The queen hangs motionless over her unconscious 
favorite, and the attendants stand chilled and paralyzed 
with doubt and dread, till a sudden gleam of satisfaction 
irradiates the stranger's face, and a faint sigh heaves the 
bosom of Agnes. " My God, I thank thee !" exclaims 
Eleanora, fervently, while every frame dilates with a full 
deep inspiration of returning hope. But the stranger, with 
an authoritative wave of his hand, repels all attempts to 
relieve him of his lovely charge. Gently he disengages 
the long silken locks that cling dripping to his arm, ten- 
derly ho raises her head to catch the breeze that fans her 
pallid clieek, and 'tis not till returning life cpivers in the 
languid eyelids, that pressing his lips upon her snowy hand, 
he resigns her to her royal mistress. At once the maidens 
crowded around, some weeping and some laughing under 
the excess of the same emotion, eager to assist in tlie re- 
suscitation of their lovely friend ; and the squires and pages 
busied themselves in constructing a litter of boughs, upon 
which Agnes was conveyed to the j)alace. 



ELEANORA. 445 

Meanwhile, the innocent cause of the catastrophe crept 
shivering to the feet of the queen, who compassionately or- 
dered one of the attendants to carry it forward ; and thus 
while the shades of evening stretched over the landscape, 
the saddened party re-entered the streets of Burgos. In the 
general confusion the strange deliverer had disappeared, 
and no one knew the direction he had taken ; but the ladies 
had not been so much occupied with their anxiety, that 
they had failed to mark his noble figure and princely bear- 
ing ; and Eleanora remembered that his face was one of pe- 
culiar beauty, though marked by a scar, conspicuous upon 
the right cheek. 



CHAPTER XV.- 

FREDERIC THE BITTEN. 



The slight illness that followed the accident which had 
so nearly proved fatal to the young Jewess, was attended 
by no dangerous symptoms, and the maidens amused her 
convalescence with conjectures concerning her mysterious 
deliverer. Their pleasantries acquired new zest, when they 
discovered that a rosy blush, no less than an evasive reply, 
answered their reiterated prediction that the stranger would 
one day return, no longer a simple knight, but a noble lord, 
or powerful prince, and claim the fair hand on which he 
imprinted his parting kiss. Thus the weeks wore away, and 
the affair at length ceased to be the engrossing topic of 
conversation : the inhabitants of the palace resumed their 
accustomed employments, and indulged in their usual ram- 
bles. 

Eleanora received frequent despatches of the most satis- 
factory character from her husband. The Christian arms 
had been everywhere successful against the Moors, and the 
King of Arragoii had added to his former conquests, Ma- 
jorca ai.d Valencia, together with nnmerous castles and 



446 HEROINES OF THE CRtJSADES. 

churches taken from the Infidels. Edward proposed to 
return by sea to Bordeaux, where he appointed his queen 
to meet him within the following month. 

But the tidings she received from Procida, through an 
ambassador that craved a private audience, created a more 
agitating interest than even the affairs of their own realm 
could awaken. At sight of the stranger, she recognized 
the saviour of Agnes, and her first impulse was to thank 
him for his generous exertions in behalf of her fair ward. 
But the grave formality of his manner checked the grace- 
ful condescension. He seemed but the bearer of a letter, 
and received her greeting merely as the messenger of Pro- 
cida, and presuming upon his avowed character, she pro- 
ceeded to peruse the despatch in his presence. 

The epistle from the Jew commenced abruptly without 
date. It acquainted the queen with the rank and title of 
the bearer, "Frederic the Bitten," Duke of Saxony, grand- 
son of the illustrious Emperor of Germany, and commend- 
ed him to her courtesy as the suitor of the young Agnes. 
Procida alluded darkly to negotiations and plots, which he 
trusted would accomplish the deliverance of his country, 
but towards the close of the epistle, the father triumphed 
over the consjnratot'y and the expressions of paternal love 
subdued the tone of vengeance to the accents of tenderness 
and apprehension. 

" I was anxious my royal friend," said he, " now that 
rugged winter has been smoothed by a softer breath, I was 
anxious to write and to address thee some grateful strain, 
as the first-fruits of the spring. But the mournful news 
presages to me new storms ; my songs sink into tears. In 
vain do the heavens smile ; in vain do the gardens and 
groves inspire me with unseasonable joy, and the returning 
concert of tlie birds tempt me to resume my own. I can- 
not behold with dry eyes the approaching desolation of my 
kind nurse Sicily. Which shall I choose for her, the yoke, 
or honor ? I see that in the confusion of insurrection 
numbers of her innocent children must perish. Shall I 
then leave her under the power of the tyrant ? Shall our 



ELEANORA, 447 

beautiful Palermo be defiled by strangers ? Shall the pow- 
erful and noble Messina rest in quiet with the foot of her 
oppressor on her neck ; or shall I, while feigning peace, or- 
ganize a war, rousing Sicily and the world to revenge ? 
Revenge ! at the word all thoughts of pity and tenderness 
leave me. The concentrated rage of Etna seems warring 
in my bosom ; it heaves at sight of the miseries of my un- 
happy people. The island is full of preparations against 
the Greeks : but, when the sword is drawn, shall it not be 
buried in the breast of him who drains the life blood from 
his helpless subjects ? 

" But in that hour Procida may perish, and the King of 
Arragon fail to restore the sister of Manfred to her ancient 
rights. There will then remain of the house of Suabia only 
'Frederic the Bitten.' If the daughter of Procida favor 
his suit, detain him till the ' Ides of MarcK' be passed, for 
with Frederic, dies the last hope of the Hohenstaufen." 

Eleanora closed the letter and pondered a moment upon 
its contents. In the plan of Procida to detain Frederic 
from the approaching conflict in Sicily, she most readily 
acquiesced, but the difficulty of managing so delicate 
an affair became instantly apparent to her ready percep- 
tion. When, however, she adroitly endeavored to draw 
from the young duke his knowledge of the purposes of Pro- 
cida, her apprehension was relieved by discovering that the 
affair had been planned in such a manner as to require 
from her, neither entreaty nor subterfuge, since the wily 
Jew had exacted a promise fr6m the young noble, that he 
would spend a twelvemonth, at the court of his cousin Ed- 
ward, before he demanded the hand of Agnes in marriage. 
Procida had not indeed, left the duke ignorant of his ulti- 
mate purpose, but he had led him to look for its accom- 
plishment at a much more distant date than that designated 
in the letter, and Frederic consequently feeling no anxiety 
for an immediate return to Sicily, readily accepted the 
queen's invitation to form part of the royal escort to Bor- 
deaux. 
Eleanora in taking leave of her brother, was comforted with 



448 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

the thought, that he was occupied with a more healthful and 
profitable pursuit than were the abstruse researches into the 
mysteries of nature, in which she had found him engaged. 
She had also the satisfaction of knowing that the deposed 
monarch had laid aside all his ambitious projects for empire, 
and now busied his thoughts in calculating the immense ad- 
vantage and glory that would accrue to mankind from the 
Castilian literature he had in preparation. The affectionate 
farewells were exchanged, and, accompanied by her two 
beautiful children, Beatrice and Berengaria, her maidens 
and the attendant squires, and a small band of Spanish 
cavaliers, among whom rode the Duke of Saxony, she set 
off to meet her lord in Aquitaine. In the genial society of 
the queen and her maidens, whose spirits were exhilarated by 
the exercise and incidents of the journey, Frederic seemed 
to breathe an atmosphere to which he had been unaccus- 
tomed, and which served to enliven his habitual gravity, 
and develop the gentler qualities of his naturally generous 
character. The maidens amused themselves with constant 
allusions to the hapjDy accomplishment of their prediction, 
and the wit of the fair Agnes was sorely tested, in meeting 
and parrying their playful attacks. The courteous atten- 
tions of the duke, were so impartially distributed among 
the ladies, that not even jealousy itself could find cause for 
complaint ; yet it was onl}' the voice of Agnes that had 
power to rouse him from his frequent reveries, and when 
he spoke, his eye instinctively turned to read in her counte- 
nance approbation or dissent. Disciplined in the school 
of adversity, he manifested a strength and severity of char- 
acter, tempered by a pensive tenderness, which showed 
that his mother's wrongs had wrought in his heart a senti- 
ment of sympathy for the suffering which made him hesi- 
tate to involve his country in the exterminating wars, that 
he foresaw would follow a renewal of the strife between 
the Guelphs and Ghibellines ; and though he felt an en- 
thusiastic admiration for the ardor and zeal of Procida, yet 
the unscrupulous Jew, who studied the character of all 
he met with reference to their availability in tiie approach- 



ELEANORA, 449 

ing crisis, too accui-;itely estimated the probity and truth 
of the young noble, to attempt to engage him in the dark 
plot for the overthrow of d'Anjou. Still he loved the duke, 
as the descendant of his great patron, and honored him 
for those qualities, of whicli he felt himself destitute ; and 
thus it was with a feeling of joyful security, rather than of 
pride at the princely alliance, that he consented to bestow 
his only treasure upon the man, who least of all sympa- 
thised in the one purpose of his life. 

The royal party arrived at Bordeaux a few days in ad- 
vance of the King of England, and during these hours of 
leisure, Frederic unfolded to the queen the mystery of his 
first appearance in Burgos. 

Procida had entrusted him with despatches for the King 
of Arragon ; and to execute his commission with the more 
secresy, and at the same time to enjoy the freedom of the 
mountain solitudes, he travelled without retinue or insignia 
of rank. Thus he was leisurely pursuing his way along the 
bank of the stream, communing pleasantly with his own 
thoughts, when the cries of Eleanora attracted him, Justin time 
to save Agnes from a watery grave. Time had so developed 
her loveliness that at first he failed to recognize in the fair 
being before him, the beautiful child he had been accus- 
tomed to admire in her father's castle of Prochyta; but 
when the first flush of returning life glowed upon her coun- 
tenance, his admiration became lost in a deeper emotion, 
and from that hour he determined to lay the ducal coro- 
net of Saxony at the feet of the beautiful daughter of Sicily. 

The return of the royal family was an era in the annals 
of English prosperity, from the number of valuables im- 
ported from Spain. In the catalogue of the queen's plate, 
mention is made of a crystal fork, the parting gift of her 
brother Alphonso, from whicli the first idea of these arti- 
cles of table luxury was derived : but the lamb, which had 
so nearly cost the life of Agnes, proved a benefit to the 
nation, whose value can never be estimated ; and the shep- 
herd of Cotswold to this day, has reason to bless the queen, 
who bestowed the cherished pet in an English fold. 

29 



450 HEROINES OF THE CKUSADKS. 

During his southern campaign, King Edward had con- 
tracted an alliance between his eldest daugliter Eleauora, 
and Alphonso, the young Prince of Arragon. The next 
sister, Joanna of Acre, who most of all resembled her 
mother in beauty and strength of character, was about the 
same time, married to the first peer of the realm, Gilbert 
the red Earl of Gloucester, and the third daughter wedded 
to John, the Duke of Brabant. At these nuptials the queen 
presented a golden cup of benison to each of the brides, 
inscribed with appropriate passages of Holy Writ ; and 
though, in consequence of Frederic's promise to her father, 
the betrothment between himself and Agnes could not then 
take place, Eleanora bestowed upon her lovely ward a 
similar gift, bearing these words, " Thou hast been unto 
me as a daughter." 



CHAPTER XVI. 

LETTER FROM PROCIDA TO DON PEDRO, KING OF ARRAGON. 

* * * ^j * * * " Thou didst tell me in Arrao-on, 
that to restore Sicily to the house of Suabia, was the chi- 
mera of a maddened brain ; that the strong arm of the 
church would be lifted to crush the Ghibellines in their 
final struggle ; that gold was wanting to bribe the soldier 
to draw his sword in behalf of the doomed race, and that 
the enemies of Charles of Anjou could not be brought to 
act together against their common foe. Recall now the 
cruel "words that drove Procida from thy court, a Mendicant, 
' Conquer these i7npossihilities, and the fleet of Arragon is 
ready to substa^itiate the claim, of the daughter of Manfred 
to the throne of Sicily? Goaded by the mocking promise, 
the tnendicant wanders in Sicily. Now, companion of the 
tax-gatherer, he wrings the last drachm^ from the hard hand 
of toil, and now with the agents of tyranny, he hides the 
skins of stags or deer in the huts of the peasant, and then 



ELEANORA. 451 

robs tlie goatherd as a penalty for the offence. Thus, he 
listens and observes. Thus, he tugs at the chain that festers 
in their shrinking flesh, to show his countrymen their thral- 
dom. Anon, a shepherd or a herdsman^ he traverses the 
valley, or scales the rock, joins the youthful throng that 
stealthily sport beneath the mountain chesnut, or mingles 
with the vexed vassals who wait their sovereigns' will, and 
whispers in the ear of each repining soul, ' The avenger of 
Manfred holds the vigils of Freedom in the cave of the for- 
est of Palermo.' At sunset, a traveller^ he seeks the ren- 
dezvous : the husbandman is returning to his cottage, his 
reaping-hook hanging idly from his arm, the Frenchman 
has gathered the grain from his fields. The herdsman 
drives his lowing flocks across the lea — the kine and the 
goat have been robbed of their young, and their fleecy 
robes been stripped from the bleating tenants of the fold. 
The peasant of Hibla returns mourning the swarm which 
the wind bore beyond his reclaim, but still more the honied 
stores which during his absence the hand of the spoiler rav- 
ished from his unprotected apiary. There comes no voice 
from the vineyard — the vintagers have trodden the wine- 
press, but the ruby current flows in the goblets that enliven 
the banquets of their foreign masters. Oh my people, Sicil- 
ians ! Listen to him who whispers in the ear of each, ' Carry 
thy wrongs to the cave of the forest of Palermo.' They 
come — barbarians, Arabs, Jews, Normans and Germans 
— those who rejoiced in the tolerant reign of the Suabians, 
those who have sufiered from the tyrant French — Etna 
groans with the prescience of coming vengeance, and with 
her thousand tongues of flame, summons the guilty op- 
pressor to abide the 'judgment of God' before the altar, 

**-3«-***u^ vessel sails from Brundusium, 
the mariners, hardy Calabrians, spread their sails and 
bend to their oars with patient purpose ; but there is one 
among them who never leaves his post, in calm or in storm — 
one thought gives strength and vigor to his iron arm ; and, 
though a scorner of puerile beadsmen, he almost prays the 
God of the wind to speed him on his course. Should the 



452 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

Greek Emperor refuse his aid — he will tell him that, which 
will make him tremble for his throne and force the gold 
from the reluctant coffers. The crafty Paleologus hesitates, 
but he stands aghast, when Procida acquaints him that 
Venice hath lent her ships to D' Anjou, and another Dandolo 
is already embarked to repeat the Fifth Crusade ! The 
Greek exclaims in despair, ' I know not what to do.' ' Give 
me money,' replies the mariner^ ' and I will find you a de- 
fender, who has no money, but who has arms.' Michael 
Paleologus opens his treasures and satisfies even a Jew's 
thirst for gold. Most of all, Paleologus desires a complete 
reconciliation with the pope ; most of all Procida desires 
an interview with the sovereign pontiff. 

" More swiftly returns the galley ; and the ambassador 
of the Greek stands u]Don the prow, wrapped in courtly 
vestments ; but not the less anxiously does he watch the 
winds and waves that return him to Rome. The feeble 
Nicholas trembles at thought of the vast undertaking, but 
Procida has fathomed the old man's ambition for his house. 
He reminds him of the reply of D'Anjou, when the pope 
proposed a marriage between his neice and Charles' son, 
' Does Nicholas fancy because he wears red stockings 
that the blood of Orsini can mingle with the blood of 
France ?' The stinging remembrance of the taunt deter- 
mines the pontiff, and the treaty with Paleologus is deliv- 
ered into the hands of the ambassador. Behold now. King 
of Arragon, ' The imjpossibilities are conquered^'' and thou 
art bound by the very vow of thine unbelief to ' substan- 
tiate the claim of the daughter of Manfred to the throne of 
Sicily: " 

Before the letter of Procida reached Don Pedro, Pope 
Nicholas died, and Charles had sufficient interest with the 
college of cardinals to procure the election of one of his 
own creatures to the Holy See. 

These events darkened the horizon above the Sicilians : 
but the dauntless spirit of Procida rose superior to this 
alarming turn of affairs. Though aware that Charles had 
been made acquainted with his designs, he remained upon 



ELEANORA. 453 

the island, stealthily riveting the links of the conspiracy, 
and binding the discordant interests of the various ranks 
in an indissoluble confederacy, for the overthrow of foreign 
oppression. The cave of the forest of Palermo was piled 
with bundles of faggots, in which were concealed the weap- 
ons that the inhabitants had forged in secresy and in dark- 
ness, for by the prohibition of the French no Sicilian was 
permitted to wear arms. The grand conspirator knew well 
the Sicilian character, ardent, gay, voluptuous, — he chose 
his time with his wonted sagacity, when the beautiful island 
rejoicing in the fullness of bloom, invites her children to 
banquet upon her charms ; when the long abstinence of 
Lent being over, the senses, reanimated by flesh and wine, 
start from languor to revel in the enjoyment of luxury and 
the exhilaration of passion. Easter-Monday, March 30th, 
1282, dawns upon Sicily with fair promise for the festal 
day. The citizens of Palermo look one upon another 
with furtive glances of restrained impatience, and prepared 
for the annua.] fete with busy alacrity, while the foreigners, 
made apprehensive by the gathering multitudes, come 
armed to assist in garlanding the very church of God. 

At sunset a bride and bridegroom go forth, attended by 
all the inhabitants of the city, both men and women, up 
the beautiful hill Monrdale, to present their vows at the 
altar of the blessed Virgin : — a traitor whispers the warn- 
ing, " The Sicilians have arms beneath their robes." The 
leader of the French hurries forward and seizes the weapon 
of the bridegroom — he lays his licentious hand upon the 
bride. Procida draws his sword, and with a cry of " Death 
to the French !" buries it in the heart of the brutal enemy. 
At the moment the sound of the Vesper bell floats from the 
temple of our lady, on the mount of Monreale. It is the ap- 
pointed signal for vengeance, and " Death to the French !" 
echoes from lip to lip, through all the ranks of the Sicilians. 
Everywhere the tyrants are cut down — the houses of the 
foreigners bear each a fatal mark, and the Destroying Angel 
spares not even women and children, and the night spreads 
her solemn pall over the bodies of slaughtered thousands. 



454 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

Intelligence of the accomplishment of Procida's purpose 
soon reached Eleanora ; bnt the horrors of the massacre 
were suj^pressed, nor did Agnes ever know the cruel part 
her father had played in the grand tragedy of the SiGilian 
Yesjoers. She learned, indeed, that the Queen of Arragon 
had rescued the only son of D'Anjou from his pursuers, 
and conveyed him away in safety from the island ; but 
the insurrection had not reached its final triumph, when 
she left the court of England as the Duchess of Saxony ; 
and it was from that time the care of her husband that her 
gentle spirit should not be pained by a knowledge of the 
sanguinary scenes that resulted in the death of D'Anjou, 
and in the re-establishment of the house of Suabia upon 
the throne of Sicil3\ 

It would have been natural for Edward, in this struggle, 
to throw the weight of his influence on the side of his uncle 
D'Anjou ; but the circumstance of his daughter's betroth- 
ment to Alphonso of Arragon, held him neutral. He, 
however, negotiated a peace between the pope and Al- 
phonso, by which D'Anjou's son, Charles the Lame, was re- 
leased from his captivity in Arragon, and permitted to as- 
sume his authority in Naples. 

Eleanora's love for her husband, not less than her deli- 
cate apj^reciation of excellence, had led her to weigh with 
wise discrimination the efiect of political events upon his 
character ; and the truth was reluctantly forced upon her, 
that ambition, nurtured by the uniform success of his enter- 
prises, was gradually absorbing the nobler qualities of 
his nature, and steeling his heart against the claims of jus- 
tice and humanity. 

King Alexander III. of Scotland, the last direct heir in 
the male line from Maude, died 1285, and this circum- 
stance was the precursor of that period, fatal to Edward's 
honor, and to the long-established amity between the two 
kingdoms. 

To avert the consequences which she foresaw would fol- 
low Alexander's demise, she had influenced Edward to 
propose a matrimonial alliance between the Prince oi 



ELEANORA. 455 

Wales and the Maid of Norway, heiress of the Scottish 
crown. The states of Scothmd reii(';i]y assented to the 
proposition of the English, and even consented that their 
young sovereign should be educated at the court of her 
royal father-in-law. But, while Eleanora was anticipating 
the pleasant task of rearing the future Queen of England, 
she was overwhelmed with sorrow by the intelligence, that 
the tender frame of the priceless child, unable to sustain 
the rigors of the voyage, had fallen a victim to death at 
the Orkneys, on her way to England. Her loss was the 
greatest calamity that ever befell the Scottish nation, fully 
justifying the touching couplet, 

"The North wind sobs where Margaret sleeps, 
And still ia tears of blood her memory Scotland steeps." 

The succession of the Scottish crown became at once a 
matter of dispute, and all the evils which Eleanora had 
foreseen began to darken the political horizon. 

The line of Alexander being extinct, the crown devolvea 
on the issue of David, Earl of Huntington, who figures as 
Sir Kenneth, in the "Talisman", The earl had three daugh- 
ters, from one of whom descended John Baliol, from an- 
other Robert Bruce ; and the rival claims of these two 
competitors having for some time agitated the kingdom, it 
was agreed to submit the arbitration of the affair to Edward, 
in the same manner as Henry IH. had made Louis IX. 
umpire of his difficulties upon the continent. But the noble 
virtues of the saintly monarch were poorly represented in 
the English king. Edward at once claimed the crown for 
himself as lord paramount of the country, appointed Baliol 
as his deputy, and sent six regents to take possession of 
Scotland. The brave men of the north resisted this aggres- 
sion with a spirit that fully proved their Scandinavian 
origin, and Edward hastened to the Scottish border to en- 
force his claims. 

Queen Eleanora was absent in Ambresbury, to witness 
the profession of her daughter Mary, who there, with the 
"Welsh Princess Guendoline, was veiled a nun under the care 



456 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES. 

of her royal mother-in-law, Eleanora of Provence. But no 
sooner was the cereinoiiy concluded, than she complied 
with her husband's earnest request, that she should follow 
him to Scotland. 

Regardless of fatigue, she hurried forward, though sen- 
sible that an incipient fever preyed upon her strength. 
As the dangerous symptoms increased, she redoubled her 
speed, hoping at least to reach Alnwick castle, and die in 
her husband's arms. But at Grantham, in Lincolnshire, her 
strength utterly failed, and in the residence of a private 
gentleman, who had belonged to their household in Pales- 
tine, she awaited the coming of the King of Terrors. A 
courier was immediately despatched to Edward, with news 
of her alarming illness. At the gentle call of conjugal 
love, all other considerations gave way in the heart of Ed- 
ward. He turned southward instantly, and by forced 
stages, hurried towards Grantham. The dying Eleanora 
watched for his coming with an anxiety born of an intense 
devotion to the welfare of her husband and his subjects. 
She longed to repeat with her last breath the tender coun- 
sels that had ever influenced him to clemency and mercy, 
and which she had enforced by the strongest of all argu- 
ments, the daily example of a holy life. But the last sad 
duty to the cold remains of his beloved consort, was the 
only consolation left to the bereaved monarch, when he 
arrived at Lincolnshire. "With a sorrow that found relief 
in every outward testimonial of woe, he followed her corpse 
in person dm'ing thirteen days in progress of the funeral 
to Westminster. In every town where the royal bier rested 
the ecclesiastics assembled, and in solemn procession con- 
ducted it to the high altar of the principal church, and at 
each resting-place, Edward set up a crucifix in memory of 
" La chere reine^'' as he passionately called his lost Elea- 
nora. Charing Cross, erected upon the site now occupied 
by the statue of Charles I., was the London monument of 
this saintly queen. 

An English writer, in a tribute to her memory, thus enu- 
merates her virtues, " To owr nation she was a loving 



ELEANORA. 457 

mother, the column and pillar of the whole realm ; there- 
fore, to her glory, the king her husband caused all those 
famous trophies to be erected, wherever her noble corpse 
did rest ; for he loved her above all earthly creatures. She 
was a godly, modest and merciful princess ; the English 
nation in her time was not harassed by foreigners, nor the 
country people by the purveyors of the crown. The sorrow- 
stricken she consoled, as became her dignity, and she made 
them friends that were at discord." 

Her sorrowing lord endowed the Abbey of "Winchester 
with rich donations for the perpetual celebration of dirges 
and masses for her soul, and waxen tapers were burned 
about her tomb, till the light of the Reformation outshone 
the lights of superstition ; but her imperishable virtues sur- 
vive every monumental device, illume the annals of history, 
and illustrate the true philosophy of female Heroism. 



NOTES. 



NOTES. 



Note A. — ^Page 19. 

^''The Lady Matilda?'' — Hlafdige, or lady, means the 
giver of bread. Few of the Queens of England can claim 
a more illustrious descent than this princess. Her father, 
Baldwin Y., was surnamed the gentle Earl of Flanders : 
her mother Adelais, was daughter of Robert, King of 
France, and sister to Henrj, reigning sovereign of that 
country, and she was nearly related to the Emperor of Ger- 
many, and most of the royal houses in Europe. — Queens of 
England^ p. 24. 

WoTE B. — Page 19. 

" Woden and ThorV — ^Two of the most powerful deities 
in northern mythology. The ancient Saxons honored Wo- 
den as the God of War, and the Germans represented Thor 
as the God of Thunder. 

:N"ote C— Page 20. 

" The Royal Children:''— Th^ sons of Matilda and Wil- 
liam the Conqueror, were Robert, afterwards Duke of Nor- 
mandy, Richard, who died young, William and Henry, af- 
terwards kings of England, Cicely, Agatha, Adela, Con- 
stance, Adeliza and Gundred. ISTo two writers agree as to 
the order of their ages, except that Robert was the eldest 
and Henry the youngest son. Cicely the eldest and Gun- 
dred the youngest daughter. — Vide Queens of England^ p. 
33-82. 

Note D.— Page 20. 

" The Moray — While the fleet destined to invade the 
Island waited in the port for a favorable wind, William 



462 NOTES. 

was agreeably surprised by the arrival of bis duchess at 
the port, in a splendid vessel of war called the Mora, which 
she had caused to be built, unknown to him, and adorned 
in the most royal style of magnificence for his acceptance. 
The effigy of their youngest son, William, in gilded bronze, 
most writers say of gold, was placed at the prow of this 
vessel, with his face turned towards England, holding a 
trumpet to his lips with one hand, and bearing in the other 
a bow with the arrow aimed towards England. — Queens 
of England^ p. 40, 

Note E.— Page 21. 

" William the Conqueror'''' was of low origin on the 
mother's side. He was not ashamed of his birth, and drew 
around him his mother's other sons. At first he had nmch 
difficulty in bringing his barons, who despised him, to their 
allegiance. He was a large, bald-headed man, very brave, 
very greedy, and very sage, according to the notions of the 
times, that is very treacherous. — Michelefs History of 
France^ p. 193. 

Note E.— Page 21. 

" Edgar AthelingP — Edward, the son of Edmund Iron- 
side, being sent to Hungary to escape the cruelty of Canute, 
was there married to Agatha, daughter of the Emperor 
Henry II. She bore him Edgar Atheling, Margaret, after- 
wards Queen of Scotland, and Christina, who afterwards 
retired to a convent. — Hume^ p. 115. 

Note G.— Page 22. 

" The one heeding strict lentenfastP — By a mixture of 
vigor and lenity, he had so soothed the mind of the 
English, that he thought he might safely revisit his native 
country, and enjoy the triumph and congratulation of his 
ancient subjects. He left the administration in the hands 
of his uterine brother, Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, and of Wil- 
liam Fitz Osberne. That their authority might be exposed 
to less danger, he carried over with him all the most con- 



NOTES. 463 

Biderable nobility of England, who, while they served to 
grace his court by their presence and magnificent retinues, 
were in reality hostages for the fidelity of the nation. 
Among these, were Edgar Atheling, Stigand the primate, 
the Earls Edwin and Morcar, Waltheof the son of the brave 
Earl Siward, with others eminent for the greatness of their 
fortunes and families, or for their ecclesiastical and civil dig- 
nities. . He was visited at the Abbey of Fescamp, where he 
resided during some time, by E.odulj)h, uncle to the King of 
of France, and by many powerful princes and nobles, who 
having contributed to his enterprise, were desirous of partici- 
pating in the joy and advantages of its success. His English 
courtiers, willing to ingratiate themselves with their new sov- 
ereign, outvied each other in equipages and entertainments ; 
and made a display of riches which struck the foreigners 
with astonishment. William of Poictiers, a Norman histo- 
rian, who was present, speaks with admiration of the beauty 
of their persons, the size and workmanship of their silver 
plate, the costliness of their embroideries, an art in which 
the English then excelled, and he expresses himself in such 
terms as tend much to exalt our idea of the opulence and 
cultivation of the people. But though everything bore 
the face of joy and festivity, and "William himself treated 
his new courtiers with great appearance of kindness, it was 
impossible altogether to prevent the insolence of the Kor- 
mans; and the English nobles derived little satisfaction 
from those entertainments, where they considered them- 
selves as led in triumph by their ostentatious conqueror. — 
Hume^ vol. 1, p. 184. 

Note H.— Page 22. 

The celebrated Bayeaux tapestry, distinguished by the 
name of the Duke of Normandifs toilette^ is a piece of 
canvass about nineteen inches in breadth, but upwards of 
sixty-seven yards in length, on which is embroidered the 
history of the conquest of England by William of Nor- 
mandy, commencing with the visit of Harold to the Norman 
court, and ending with his death at the battle of Hastings, 



464 NOTES. 

1066. The leading transactions of these eventful years, the 
death of Edward the Confessor, and the coronation of Har- 
old in the chamber of the royal dead, are represented in 
the clearest and most regular order in this piece of needle- 
work, which contains many hundred figures of men, horses, 
birds, beasts, trees, houses, castles, and churches, all exe- 
cuted their proper colors, with names and inscriptions over 
them to elucidate the story. It appears to have been de- 
signed by Tm-dld, a dwarf artist, who illuminated the can- 
vas with the proper outlines and colors. — Queens of Eng- 
land^ vol. 1, p. 54. 

Note I.— Page 23. 
" Cicely^ the hetrothed of Harold.'''' — William also com- 
plained of the afiront that had been offered to his daughter 
by the faithless Saxon, who, regardless of his contract to 
the little JSTorman princess, just before King Edward's 
death, strengthened his interest with the English nobles by 
marrying Algitha, sister to the powerful Earls Morcar and 
Edwin, and widow to Griffith, Prince of "Wales. This cir- 
cumstance is mentioned with great bitterness in all Wil- 
liam's proclamations and reproachful messages to Harold, 
and appears to have been considered by the incensed duke 
to the full as great a villany as the assumption of the crown 
of England. — Queens of England^ vol. 1, p. 35. 

Note J. — Page 24. 
" Condemned her former lover.'''' — Brithric, the son of 
Algar, a Saxon Thane, is stated in Domesday, to have held 
this manor in the reign of Edward the Confessor ; but hav- 
ing given offence to Maud, the daughter of Baldwin, Count 
of Flanders, previous to her marriage with William, Duke 
of Normandy, by refusing to marry her himself, his prop- 
erty was seized by that monarch on the conquest, and be- 
stowed seemingly in revenge upon the queen. — Ellis's His- 
tory of Thornhury Castle. 

Note K. — Page 25. 
" The terrible Vikings.'''' — Sea kings among the Danes 



NOTES. 465 

or Normans ; leaders of piratical squadrons who passed 
their lives in roving the seas in search of spoil and adven- 
tures. The younger sons of the Scandinavian kings and 
jarls, having no inheritance but the ocean, naturally col- 
lected around their standards the youth of inferior order, 
who were equally destitute with themselves. These were 
the same who, in England and Scotland, under the name 
of Danes, and on the continent under the name of Kor- 
mans, at first desolated the maritime coasts, and afterwards 
penetrated into the interior of countries, and formed per- 
manent settlements in their conquests. — See Encyclojpedia. 

Note L. — ^Page 27. 

" The Danes confided much in the Fylga or Guardian 
SjpiritP — ^They have certain Priestesses named Morthwyr- 
tha, or worshippers of the dead. 

Note M. — Page 29. 

Edgar Atheling, dreading the insidious caresses of Wil- 
liam, escaped into Scotland, and carried thither his two sis- 
ters, Margaret and Christina. They were well received by 
Malcolm, who soon after espoused Margaret, the elder. — 
Hume's History of England^ vol. 1. 

Note N.— Page 29. 

" The laying waste of Hampshire. '''^ — There was one 
pleasure to which William, as well as all the Normans and 
ancient Saxons, were extremely addicted, and that was 
hunting ; but this pleasure he indulged more at the ex- 
pense of his unhappy subjects, whose interests he always 
disregarded, than to the loss or diminution of his own reve- 
nue. Not content with those large forests which former 
kings possessed in all parts of Enghind, he resolved to make 
a new forest near Winchester, the usual place of his resi- 
dence ; and for that purpose lie laid waste the country in 
Hampshire for an extent of thirty miles, expelled the in- 
habitants from their houses, seized their property even, de- 

30 



466 NOTES. 

molished churches and convents, and made' the sufferers no 
compensation for the injury. At the same time he enacted 
new laws, by which he prohibited all his subjects from 
hunting in any of his forests, and rendered the penalties 
more severe than ever had been inflicted for such offences. 
The killing of a deer or bear, or even a hare, was punished 
with the loss of a delinquent's eyes ; and that, at a time, 
when the killing of a man could be atoned for by paying a 
a moderate fine. — History of England^ vol. 1, p. 214. 

KoTE O.— Page 29. 

" Odious Danegelt^ and still more odious Couvrefeu. " — 
William, to prevent the people of the land from confeder- 
ating together in nocturnal assemblies, for the purpose 
of discussing their grievances, and stimulating each other 
to revolt, compelled them to couvrefeu, or extinguish the 
lights and fires in their dwellings at eight o'clock every 
evening, at the tolling of a bell, called from that circum- 
stance, the curfew or couvrefeu. — Queens of England^ vol. 
1, p. 57. 

KoTE P.— Page 30. 

" Lanfrane will absolve thee from thy oathP — Lanfranc 
exchanged his priory for the Abbey of St. Stephen, at Caen, 
in Normandy, and when William, the sovereign of that 
duchy, acquired the English throne by conquest, the inter- 
est of that prince procured his election, in 1070, to the 
Archbishopric of Canterbury, then become vacant by the 
deposition of Stigand. — See Eneyclopedia. 

Note Q. — Page 41. 

" Adela stood again in the old Ahhey of Fescamp?^ — In 
the year 1075, William and Matilda, with their family, 
kept the festival of Easter with great pomp at Fescamp, 
and attended in person the profession of their eldest daugh- 
ter Cicely, who was there veiled a nun, by the Archbishop 
John. — Queens of England^ vol. 1, p. 63. 



NOTES. 467 

Note R.— Page 36. 

"J. maiden's needle wounds less deeply than a wan'ior's 
swordP — It was on the field of Archenibraye, where Robert, 
unconscious who the doughty champion was, against whom 
he tilted, ran his father through the arm with his lance, and 
unhorsed him. — Queens of England^ vol. 1, p. 71. 

Note S.— Page 37. 

'"''Accolade?'' — ^The more distinguished the rank of the 
aspirant, the more distinguished were those who put them- 
selves forward to arm him. The romances often state that 
the shield was given to a knight by the King of Spain, the 
sword by a King of England, the helmet from a French 
sovereign. The word dub is of pure Saxon origin. The 
French word adouber is similar to the Latin adoptare, for 
knights were not made by adapting the habiliments of 
chivalry to them, but by receiving them, or being adopted 
into the order. Many writers have imagined that the ac- 
colade was the last blow which the soldier might receive 
with impunity. — MilVs History of Chivalry^ p. 28, 

Note T.— Page 48. 

" The Saxon Secretary Ingulphus.'" — In the year 1051, 
William, Duke of Normandy, then a visitor at the court of 
Edward the Confessor, made Ingulphus, then of the age of 
twenty-one, his secretary. He accompanied the duke to 
Normandy — went on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and 
upon his return was created abbot of the rich monastery 
of Croyland — See Encyclopedia. 

Note U. — Page 47. 

'''' I craved a portion of the Holy dust?'' — Even the dust 
of Palestine was adored : it was carefully conveyed to Eu- 
rope, and the fortunate possessor, whether by original ac- 
quisition or by purchase, was considered to be safe from 
the malevolence of demons. As a proof that miracles had 
not ceased iti liis tiiiii:'. St. Augustine relates a story of the 



468 NOTES. 

cure of a young man who had some of the dust of the Holy 
City suspended in a bag over his bed. — MilVs Crusades^ 
p. 14. 

ISToTE V. — Page 47. 

'■''Pilgrim and Palmer.'''' — On his return, he placed the 
branch of the sacred palm tree, which he had brought from 
Jerusalem, over the altar of his church, in proof of the ac- 
complishment of his vow ; religious thanksgivings were 
offered up ; rustic festivity saluted and honored him, and 
he was revered for his piety and successful labors. — MilVs 
Crusades^ p. 14. 

N"oTE "W. — Page 48. 

" Joined the Arclil)isTio]pP — The clergy of Germany had 
proclaimed their intention of visiting Jerusalem ; and In- 
gulphus, a native and historian of England, was one of a 
Norman troop which joined them at Mayence. The total 
number of pilgrims was seven thousand, and among the 
leaders are the names respectable for rank of the Arch- 
bishop of Mayence and the Bishops of Bamberg, Ratisbon, 
and Utrecht. Their march down Europe, and through the 
Greek Empire, was peaceable and unmolested ; but when 
they entered the territory of the infidels, they fell into the 
hands of the Arab robbers, and it was not witliout great 
losses of money and lives that the baud reached Jerusa- 
lem, — History of Crusades.^ p. 17. 

IS'oTE X. — ^Page 49. 

" The Gog and Magog of sacred writ.'''' — Magyar is the 
national and oriental denomination of the Hungarians ; 
but, among the tribes of Scythia, they are distinguished by 
the Greeks under the proper and peculiar name of Turks, 
as the descendants of that mighty people who had con- 
quered and reigned from China to the Volga. — Gibho7i's 
Rome., vol. 5, p. 411. 

Note Y.— Paoe 50. 
"" Battle AhheyP — William hiid the foundation of the 



NOTES. 469 

Abbey of St. Martin, now called Battle Abbey, where per- 
petual prayers were directed to be offered up for the re- 
pose of the souls of all who had fallen in that sanguinary 
conflict. The high altar of this magnificent monument of 
the Norman victory was set upon the very spot where Har- 
old's body was found, or, according to others, where he first 
pitched his gonfanon. — Queens of England^ vol. 1, p. 50. 

Note Z. — Page 51. 

" Did not that for his own sins.^' — It is a maxim of the 
civil law, that whosoever cannot pay with his purse must 
pay with his body ; and the practice of flagellation was 
adopted by the monks, a cheap, though painful equivalent. 
By a fantastic arithmetic, a year of penance was taxed at 
three thousand lashes, and such was the skill and patience 
of a famous hermit, St. Dominic, of the iron cuirass, that 
in six days he could discharge an entire century by a whip- 
ping of three hundred thousand stripes. His example was 
followed by many penitents of both sexes ; and as a vicari- 
ous sacrifice was accepted, a sturdy disciplinarian might 
expiate on his own back the sins of his benefactors. — Gih- 
bon^s JSome, vol. 5, p. 58. 

Note AA. — Page 53. 

The story of the noble Magyar is taken from early trav- 
els in Palestine. 

Note BB.— PIge 60. 

" The assassin hand of Mount LehanmiP — Hassan, with 
his seven successors, is known in the East, under the name 
of the Old Man of the Mountain, because his residence 
was in the mountain fastness in Syria. These Ismaelians, 
therefore, acquired in the West the name of Assassins, 
which thence became in the western languages of Europe 
a common name for murderer. — See Encyclopedia. 

Note CC— Page Q^. 
" Thou. shouJdd have hccn King."'' — His eldest son. Rob- 



470 NOTES. 

ert, was absent in Germany, at the time of liis death. 
"William was on his voyage to England ; Henry, who had 
taken charge of his obsequies, suddenly departed on some 
self-interested business, and all the great officers of the 
court having dispersed themselves, — some to oflfer their 
homage to Robert, and others to William, the inferior 
servants of the household plundered the house, stripped 
the person of the royal dead, and left his body naked upon 
the floor. — Queens of England^ vol. 1, p. 85. 

Note DD.— Page 69. 

" Our uncle Odo hates Lanfrmic.'''' — The Duke William 
was brave, open, sincere, generous ; even his predominate 
fault, his extreme indolence and facility, were not dis- 
agreeable to those haughty barons, who affected independ- 
ence, and submitted with reluctance to a vigorous admin- 
istration in their sovereign. Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, and 
Robert, Earl of Montaigne, maternal brothers of the con- 
queror, envying the great credit of Lanfranc, which was 
increased by his late services, enforced all these motives 
with these partisans, and engaged them in a formal con- 
spiracy to dethrone William Rufus. — Hume's History of 
England^ vol. 1, p. 221. 

Note EE.— Page 71. 

" Siege of St. MichaeVs Mounts — Prince Henry, dis- 
gusted that so little care had been taken of his interests in 
this accommodation, retired to St. Michael's Mount, a strong 
fortress on the coast of Normandy, and infested the neigh- 
borhood with his incursions. Robert and William, with 
their joint forces, besieged him in this place, and had 
nearly reduced him by the scarcity" of water, when the 
eldest, hearing of his distress, granted him permission to 
supply himself, and also sent him some pipes of wine for 
his own table. Being reproved by William for his ill-timed 
generosity, he replied, " What, shall I suffer my brother 
to die of thirst — where shall we find another when he is 
gone ?" — Hume's England, vol. 1. 



NOTES. 471 

Note FF.— Page 73. 

" Crowds followed the steps of the monk.'''' — ^Tlie lower 
order of people attached themselves to one Peter the Her- 
mit, a monk of the city of Amiens. He had at first led a 
solitary life under the habit of a monk ; but afterwards, 
men saw him traversing the streets, and preaching every- 
where. The people surrounded him in crowds, — over- 
whelmed him with presents, and proclaimed his sanctity 
with such great praises, that I do not remember like honors 
having been rendered to any one. In whatever he did or 
said, there seemed to be something divine in him, so that 
they would even pluck the hairs out of his mule, to keep 
them as relics ; which I relate here, not as laudable, but 
for the vulgar, who love all extraordinary things. He 
wore only a woollen tunic, and above it a cloak of coarse 
dark cloth, which hung to his heels. His arms and feet 
were naked ; he ate little or no bread ; and supported him- 
self on wine and fish. — Michelet^ p. 209. 

Note GG.— Page 78. 

'''• Deus Vidt.^^ — Urban was about to continue, when he 
was interrupted by a general uproar ; the assistants shed 
tears, struck their breasts, raised their eyes and hands to 
heaven, all exclaiming together, "Let us march, God wills 
it ! God wills it !" — History of the Popes^ p. 384. 

Note HH.— Page 79. 

" Stitch the red cross?'' — All mounted the red cross on 
their shoulders. Red stuffs and vestments of every kind 
were torn in pieces; yet were insufficient for the purpose. 
There were those who imprinted the cross upon themselves 
with a red-hot iron. — Michelet, p. 210. 

Note XL— Page 82. 

" Walter the Penniless.'''' — Sixty thousand were conducted 
by the Hermit. Walter the Penniless led fifteen thousand 
fuotnien, followed by a fanatic named Godeschal, whose ser- 



472 NOTES. 

mons had swept away twenty thousand peasants from the 
villages of Germany. Their rear was again pressed by a 
herd of two hundred thousand, the most stupid and savage 
refuse of the people, who mingled with their devotion a 
brutal license of rapine, prostitution, and drunkenness. 
Some counts and gentlemen, at the head of three thousand 
horse, attended the motions of the multitude to partake in 
the spoil ; but their genuine leaders (may we credit such 
folly) were a goose and a goat, who were carried in the 
front, and to whom these worthy Christians ascribed an in- 
fusion of the divine spirit. — Oibhon^s Rome^ vol. 5, p. 553. 

Note JJ. — Page 84. 

^^Inquire if tJiathe Jerusalem^ — In some instances the 
poor rustic shod his oxen like horses, and placed his whole 
family in a cart, where it was amusing to hear the children, 
on the approach to any large town or castle, inquiring if 
the object before them were Jerusalem. — MilVs Crusades^ 
p. 31. 

KoTE KIv. — Page 87. 

'•'•AdelaJ's Letter from Stejjheii.''^ — Alexius expressed a 
wish that one of the sons of Stephen might be educated at 
the Bj'-zantine court, and said a thousand other fine things, 
which Stephen reported to his wife as holy truths. — MilVs 
Crusades^ p. 49. 

Note LL. — ^Page 105. 

'"''Of Emfiish laws and an English Queen.'''' — Matilda is 
the only princess of Scotland who ever shared the throne of 
a king of England. It is, however, from her maternal an- 
cestry that she derives her great interest as connected with 
the annals of this country. Pier mother, Margaret Athe- 
ling, was the grandaughter of Edmund Ironside, and the 
daughter of Edward Atheling, surnanied the Outlaw, by 
Agatha, daughter of the Emperor Henry II. of Germany. — 
Queens of England^ p. 91. 



KOTES. 473 

Note MM.— Page 110. 

" We fought in the Plains of Bamulay — ^Tbe small pha- 
lanx was overwhelmed by the Egyptians ! Stephen, Earl 
of Chartres, was taken prisoner and murdered by his enemy ; 
he was the hero who ran away in the Crusade. His wife 
was Adela, a daughter of King William I. of England, and 
this spirited lady vowed she would give her husband 'uo 
rest till he recovered his fame in Palestine. He went 
thither, and died in the manner above related. — MilVs 
Crusades^ p. 95. 

Note NN.— Page 111. 

" The daughter of Earl Waltheoff^ Matilda^'' was the 
wife of David, afterwards King of Scotland, and the mother 
of the first Earl of Huntingdon. — Dr. Lingard. 

Note CO.— Page 113. 

'■'• Liicy lies in the sea^ — Besides the heir of England, 
Prince William, there were lost in the White ship, Eichard, 
Earl of Chester, with his bride, the young Lady Lucy, of 
Blois, daughter of Henry's sister Adela, and the flower of 
the juvenile nobility, who are mentioned by the Saxon 
chronicle as a multitude of " incomparable folk." — Queens 
of El gland ^ p. 131. 

Note PP.— Page 120. 

" Oou7'ts of Zove^ — Eleanora was by hereditary right, 
chief reviewer and critic of the poets of Provence. At 
certain festivals held by her after the custom of her ances- 
tors, called Courts of Love, all new sirventes and chansons 
were sung or recited before her by the troubadours. She 
then, assisted by a conclave of her ladies, sat in judgment 
and pronounced sentence on their literary merits. — Queens 
of England^ p. 188. 

Note QQ.— Page 121. 

'■'•Romance Walloon.^^ — ^The appellation of Walloon was 
derived from the word Waalchland, the name by which the 



474 xNOTES. 

Germans to this day designate Italy. William the Con- 
queror was so much, attached to the Romance Walloon, that 
he encouraged its literature among his subjects, and forced 
it on the English by means of rigorous enactments, in 
place of the ancient Saxon, which closely resembled the 
Korse of his own ancestors. 

'X'hroughout the whole tract of country from Navarre to 
the dominions of the Dauphin of Auvergne, and from sea 
to sea, the Provengal language was spoken — a language 
which combined the best points of French and Italian, and 
presented j^eculiar facilities for poetical composition. It 
was called the langue Wog^ the tongue of "yes" and " no ;" 
because, instead of '■'■ ouV and "?ic>;i" of the rest of France, 
the affirmative and negative were " 6>c" and " ?io.' The an- 
cestors of Eleanora were called par exGellence — the Lords 
of "oc" and '"'-noy — Queens of England^ pp. 60-186. 

Note EE.— Page 123. 

"//i a Province fair.'''' — This ballad is from the early 
English Metrical Eomances. 

Note SS.— Page 127. 

" The Lady Petronilla?'' — ^The sister of the queen, the 
young Petronilla, whose beauty equalled that of her sister, 
and whose levity far surpassed it, could find no single man 
in all France to bewitch with the spell of her fascinations, 
but chose to seduce Eodolph, Count of Yermandois, from 
his wife. — Queens of England.^ p. 189. 

Note TT.— Page 130. 

'•'• AhelardP — Abelard, Peter, originally Abailard, a 
monk of the order of St. Benedict, equally famous for his 
learning and for his unfortunate love for Hdloise, was born 
in 1079, near Nantes, in the little village of Palais, which 
was the property of his father, Berenger. — Encyclojpedia. 

Note UU.— Page 132. 
'■'■St. Bernard.'''' — St. Bernard, born at Fontaines, in Bur- 



NOTES. 475 

gundy, 1091, was of noble family, and one of the most in- 
fluential ecclesiastics of the middle ages. He was named 
the honeyed teacher^ and his writings were styled a stream 
from Paradise. 

He principally promoted the crusade in 1146, and quieted 
the fermentation caused at that time by a party of monks, 
against the Jews in Germany. — Encyclopedm. 

KoTE VV.— Page 135. 

'•''Yalley of LaodiceaP — The freaks of Queen Eleanora 
and her female warriors were the cause of all the misfor- 
tunes that befel King Louis and his army, especially in the 
defeat at Laodicea. The king had sent forward the queen 
and her ladies, escorted by his choicest troops, under the 
guard of Count Maurienne. He charged them to choose 
for their camp the arid, but commanding ground which 
gave them a view over the defiles of the valley of Laodicea. 
Queen Eleanora insisted upon halting in a lovely romantic 
valley, full of verdant grass and gushing fountains. — Queens 
of England^ p. 190. 

Note WAV.— Page 140. 

^^ Series of Coquetries.'''' — Some say that she was smitten 
with Paymond, of Antioch ; others with a handsome Sara- 
cen slave ; and it was, moreover, rumored that she received 
presents from the Sultan. — Michelet. p. 233. 

Note XX.— Page 141. 

" Twenty days.'''' — The " Queens of France" record that 
he learned the Provengal tongue in twenty days. 

Note YY.— Page 143. 

'-'• Knights of the TemjpleP — A celebrated order of knights, 
which, like the order of St. John and the Teutonic order, 
had its origin in the crusades. It was established in 1119, 
for the protection of the pilgrims on the roads in Palestine. 
Subsequently, its object became the defence of the Chris- 
tian faith, and of the Holy Sepulchre against the Saracens. 



476 NOTES. 

Uniting the privileges of a religious order with great 
military power, and always prepared for service by sea 
and land, it could use its possessions to more advantage 
than other corporations, and also make conquests on its 
own account ; in addition to which it received rich dona- 
tions and bequests from the superstition of the age. 

The principal part of the possessions of the order were in 
France : most of the knights were also French, and the 
grand-master was usually of that nation. In 1244, the or- 
der possessed nine thousand considerable bailiwicks, com- 
manderies, priories and preceptories, independent of the 
jurisdiction of the countries in which they were situated. 

The order was destroyed in France by Philip the Fair, 
about the beginning of the fourteenth century. — EThcyclo- 
pedia. 

Note ZZ.— Page 144. 

'■'•Hospitalley'sy — ^The Knights of St. John, or Hospitallers 
of St. John, afterwards called Knights of Rhodes, and final- 
ly Knights of Malta, were a celebrated order of military 
religious, established at the commencement of the crusades 
to the Holy Land. It was the duty of the monks, who 
were called brothers of St. John or hospitallers, to take care 
of the poor and sick, and in general, to assist pilgrims. 
This order obtained important possessions, and maintained 
itself against the arms of the Turks and Saracens by union 
and courage. 

In 1309 the knights established themselves on the island 
of Rhodes, where they remained upwards of two hundred 
years. In 1530, Charles Fifth granted them the island of 
Malta, on conditions of perpetual war against the infidels 
and pirates. From this period, they were commonly called 
Knights of Malta. — Encyclopedia. 

Note AAA. — Page 146. 

" On her way Southward.'''' — Eleanora stayed some time 
at Blois, the count of which province was Thibaut, elder 
brother to King Stephen, one of the handsomest and bravest 



NOTES. . 477 

men of bis time. Tbibaut oflfered bis band to bis fair guest. 
He met witb a refusal, wbicb by no means turned bim 
from bis purpose, as be resolved to detain tbe lady prisoner 
in bis fortress till sbe complied witb bis proposal. Eleanora 
suspected bis design, and departed by nigbt for Tours. 
Young Geoffrey Plantagenet, tbe next brotber to tbe man 
sbe intended to marry, bad likewise a great inclination to 
be sovereign of tbe soutb. He placed bimself in ambusb 
at a part of tbe Loire called tbe Port of Piles, witb tbe in- 
tention of seizing tbe ducbess and carrying ber off and 
marrying ber. But sbe, pre-warned by ber good angel, 
turned down a brancb of tbe stream toward ber own 
country, — Queens of England^ p. 114. 

mTE BBB.— Page 151. 

''^ Becket?'' — ^Tbomas Becket, tbe most celebrated Roman 
Catbolic prelate in tbe Englisb annals, was born in London, 
1119. He was tbe son of Gilbert, a London mercbant. His 
motber was a Saracen lady, to wbose fatber Gilbert was 
prisoner, being taken in tbe first crusade. Tbe lady fell in 
love witb tbe prisoner, and guided by tbe only Englisb 
wordssbeknew— "Gilbert— London"— followed bim to Lon- 
don, wbere be married ber. 

He was recommended by Arcbbisbop Tbeobald, to King 
Henry H., and in 1158 be was appointed bigb cbancellor 
and preceptor to Prince Henry, and at tbis time was a com- 
plete courtier, conforming in every respect to tbe bumor 
of tbe king. 

He died in tbe fifty-second year of bis age, and was can- 
onized two years after. Of tbe popularity of tbe pilgrim- 
ages to bis tomb, tbe " Canterbury Tales" of Cbaucer will 
prove an enduring testimony. — Encyclopedia. 

KoTE CCC— Page 155. 

''''Regular DramaP — Besides tbe mysteries and miracles 
played by tbe parisb clerks and students of divinity, tbe 
classic taste of tbe accomplisbed Eleanor patronized repre- 
sentations nearly allied to tbe regular drama, since we find 



478 NOTES. 

that Peter of Blois, in his epistles, congratulates his brother 
William, on his tragedy of Flaura and Marcus, played be- 
fore the queen. — Queens of England^ p. 199. 

Note DDD.—Page 165. 

" Adrian IV^ — Adrian IV., an Englishman, originally 
named Nicholas Breakspear, rose, by his great talents, from 
the situation of a poor monk, to the rank of cardinal, and 
legate in the north. He was elected pope in 1154, and 
waged an unsuccessful war against "William, King of Sicily. 

The permission which he gave to Henry H., King of Eng- 
land, to invade Ireland, on the condition that every family 
of that island should pay annually a penny to the papal 
chair, because all islands belong to the pope, is worthy of 
remark. On this grant the subsequent popes founded their 
claims on Ireland. — Encycloj[)edia. 

Note EEE.— Page 184. 

" The wasted form of RosaifnondP — It is not a very easy 
task to reduce to anything like perspicuity the various tra- 
ditions which float through the chronicles, regarding Queen 
Eleanor's unfortunate rival, the celebrated Rosamond 
Clifford. No one who studies history ought to despise tra 
dition, for we shall find that tradition is generally founded 
on fact, even when defective or regardless of chronology. 
It appears that the acquaintance between Rosamond and 
Henry commenced in early youth, about the time of his 
knighthood by his uncle, the King of Scotland ; that it was 
renewed at the time of his successful invasion of England, 
when he promised marriage to the unsuspecting girl. As 
Rosamond was retained by him as a prisoner, though not 
an unwilling one, it was easy to conceal from her the facts 
that he had wedded a queen and brought her to England ; 
but his chief difliculty was to conceal Rosamond's existence 
from Eleanor, and yet indulge himself with frequent visits 
to the real object of his love. 

Brompton says, " That one day, Queen Eleanor saw the 
king walking in the pleasance of Woodstock, with the end 



NOTES. 479 

of a ball of floss silk attached to his spur, and that, coming 
near him unperceived, she took ;i}) the l^all, and the king 
walked on, the silk miwound, and thus the queen traced 
him to a thicket in the labyrinth or maze of the park, where 
he disappeared. She kept the matter secret, often revolv- 
ing in her own mind in what company he could meet with 
balls of silk. 

" Soon after, the king left Woodstock for a distant jour- 
ney; then Queen Eleanor, bearing this discovery in mind, 
searched the thicket in the park, and found a low door 
cunningly concealed ; this door she had forced, and found 
it was the entrance to a winding subterranean path, which 
led out at a distance to a sylvan lodge, in the most retired 
part of the adjacent forest." Here the queen found in a 
bower a young lady of incomparable beauty, busily engaged 
in embroidery. Queen Eleanor then easily guessed how 
balls of silk attached themselves to King Henry's spurs. 

Whatever was the result of the interview between Elea- 
nor and Rosamond, it is certain that the queen neither de- 
stroyed her rival by sword nor poison, though in her rage 
it is possible that she might threaten both. 

The body of Rosamond was buried at Godstow, near Ox- 
ford, a little nunnery among the rich meadows of Evenlod. 
King John thought proper to raise a tomb to the memory 
of Rosamond ; it was embossed with fair brass, having an 
inscription about its edges, in Latin, to this effect, 

" This tomb doth here enclose 
The world's most beauteous rose 
Rose passing sweet erewhile, 
Now nought but odor vile." 

Queens of England. 

Note FFF.— Page 185. 

''^Imprisonment of Queen Eleanor.'''' — Queen Eleanor, 
whose own frailties had not made her indulgent to those of 
others, offended by the repeated infidelities of the king, 
stirred up her sons, Richard and Geoffrey, to make demands 
similar to that of their brother, and persuaded them, when 



480 NOTES. 

denied, to fly also to the court of France. Eleanor herself 
absconded ; but slic fell soon after into the hands of her 
husband, by whom she was kept confined for the remain- 
der of his reign. — Pictorial History of England. 

Note GGG.— Page 187. 

" Turning proudly to the rebel lords?"* — Hoveden, and 
some other English writers, have recorded a story, that the 
Count of Tripoli and his friends proffered their allegiance 
to the queen, upon the reasonable condition that she should 
be divorced from Lusignan, and should choose such a per- 
son for the partner of her throne as would be able to de- 
fend the kingdom. She complied, and after she had been 
crowned, she put the diadem on the head of Lusignan. — 
Mills' Crusades^ p. 137. 

Note HHH.— Page 190. 

" Thy brother William and his beautiful bride?'' — The 
Earl of Salisbury was the son of King Henry II., by fair 
Rosamond. His christian name was William, and his wear- 
ing a longer sword than was usual gave him his surname. 
His half brother, King Richard I., gave him in marriage 
Ela, eldest daughter and coheiress of William de Eureux, 
Earl of Salisbury and Rosemer ; and also raised him to the 
title of earl. Ela was granddaughter of Patric Earl of 
Salisbury, murdered by Guy de Lusignan. — Mills'' Cru- 
sades^ p. 198. 

Note HI.— Page 195. 

" The well Zemzem?'' — Zemzem is believed by the follow- 
ers of Mohammed, to be the identical spring which gushed 
forth in the wilderness for the relief of Hagar and Ishmael ; 
and marvellous efficacy is ascribed to its waters, in giving 
health to the sick, imparting strength of memory, and puri- 
fying from the effects of sin. — Encyclopedia. 

Note JJJ.— Page 200. 
'•'' PaiTipeluna''' — a city of Spain, and capital of Navarre, 



NOTES. 481 

situated on the Arga, in a plain near the Pyrenees, found- 
ed by Pompey. — Encyclopedia. 

Note KKK.— Page 220. 

'''' Blood oozed.'''' — When Eichard entered the abbey he 
shuddered, and prayed some moments before the altar, 
when the nose and mouth of his father began to bleed so 
profusely, that the monk in attendance kept incessantly 
wiping the blood from his face. — Queens of England — 
Eleanora of Aquitaine^ p. 220. 

JSToTE LLL.— Page 227. 

''''Driven from the harJjor?'' — Queen Joanna's galley 
sheltered in the harbor of Limoussa, when Isaac, the Lord 
of Cyprus, sent two boats, and demanded if the queen 
would land. She declined the offer, saying, " all she want- 
ed was to know whether the King of England had passed." 
They replied : " they did not know." At that juncture 
Isaac approached with great power, u]3on which the cava- 
liers who guarded the royal ladies, got the galley in order 
to be rowed out of the harbor at the first indication of hos- 
tilities. — Bernard le Tresorier. 

Note MMM.— Page 242. 

'■''Battle of T'dieriasP — In the ^^lain near Tiberias the 
two armies met in conflict. For a whole day the engage- 
ment was in suspense, and at night the Latins retired to 
some rocks, whose desolation and want of water had com- 
pelled them to try tlie fortune of a battle. The heat of a 
Syrian summer's night was rendered doubly horrid, because 
the Saracens set fire to some woods which surrounded the 
Christian camp. In the morning, the two armies were for 
awhile stationary, in seeming consciousness that the fate 
of the Moslem and the Christian worlds was in their hands. 

But when the sun arose, the Latins uttered their shout of 
war, the Turks answered by the clangor of their trumpets 
and atabals, and the sanguinary conflict began. The piece 
of the true cross was placed on a hillock, and the broken 

31 



482 NOTES. 

squadrons continually rallied round it. But the crescent 
had more numerous supporters than the cross, and for that 
reason triumphed. — Mills' History of the Crusades^ p. 139. 

Note NNN.— Page 250. 

" Courtesies oflifeP — ^Through the whole of the war Sa- 
ladin and Richard emulated each other as much in the re- 
ciprocation of courtesy, as in military exploits. If ever the 
King of England chanced to be ill, Saladin sent him pres- 
ents of Damascene pears, peaches, and other fruits. The 
same liberal hand gave the luxury of snow, in the hot sea- 
son. — Hoveden^ p. 693. 

Note 000.— Page 254. 

" Union 'between his 'brother.''^ — Political disturbances in 
England demanded the presence of Eichard, and he was 
compelled to yield to his necessities, and solicit his gener- 
ous foe to terminate the war. He proposed a consolidation 
of the Christian and Mohammedan interests, the establish- 
ment of a government at Jerusalem, partly European and 
partly Asiatic ; and these schemes of policy were to be 
carried into eiFect by the marriage of Saphadin with the 
widow of William, King of Sicily. The Mussulman princes 
would have acceded to these terras : but the marriage was 
thought to be so scandalous to religion, that the imams 
and the priests raised a storm of clamor, and Richard and 
Saladin, powerful as they were, submitted to popular opin- 
ion. — Hills'' Crusades. 

Note PPP.— Page 258. 

" This way sire.'''' — A friend led him to a hill which com- 
manded a view of Jerusalem : but, covering his face with 
a shield, he declared he M^as not worthy to behold a city 
which he could not conquer, — Mills'' History of the Cru- 
sades^ p. 164. 

Note QQQ.— Page 266. 

" Count Raimond?'' — The young count so well acquitted 



NOTES. 483 

himself, of his charge, that he won the affection of the fair 
widow, Queen Joanna, on tlic journey. The attachment of 
these lovers healed the enmity that had long subsisted be- 
tween the houses of Aquitaine and that of the Counts of 
Toulouse, on account of tlie snperior claims of Queen Elea- 
nora on that great Hef. When Eleanora found the love that- 
subsisted between her youngest cLild and the heir of Tou- 
louse, she conciliated his father by giving up her rights to 
her daughter, and Berengaria had the satisfaction of seeing 
her two friends united after she arrived at Poitou. — Beren- 
garia of Navarre^ p. 16. 

Note ERR.— Page 267. 

The song of Richard and Blondell is found in Burney's 
History of Music ^ vol. 2, p. 236. 

Note SSS.— Page 271. 

" The Mack, hannerP — Finding his end approaching, Sa- 
ladin commanded the black standard, which had so often 
led the way to victoiy, to be taken down, and rej^laced by 
the shroud which was to wrap his body in the grave. This 
was then borne through the streets, while the cries called 
all men to behold what Saladin, the mighty conqueror, car- 
ried away with him of all his vast dominion. Saladin died, 
a monarch in whose character, though the good was not 
unmixed with evil, the great qualities so far preponderated, 
that they overbalanced the effects of a barbarous epoch and 
a barbarous religion, and left in him a splendid exception 
to most of the vices of his age, his country and his creed. — 
James'' History of Chivalry^ p. 264. 

Note TIT.— Page 273. 

" The Fourth Crusade!''' — Saphadin marched against 
them, and the Germans did not decline the combat. Yic- 
tory was on the side of the Christians ; but it was bonght 
by the death of many brave warriors, particularly of the 
Duke of Saxony, and of tiie son of the Dnke of Austria. 



484 NOTES. 

But the Germans did not profit by this success, for news ar- 
rived from Europe, that the great support of the crusade, 
Henry YI., was dead. The Archbishop of Mayence, and 
all those princes who had an interest in the election of a 
German sovereign, deserted the Holy Land. — Mills'^ Histo- 
ry of the Crusades^ p. 172. 

Note UUU.— Page 277. 

^'•Blanche of Castile?'' — This queen, so justly celebrated 
for her talents in the administration of government, as 
well as her lofty character and the excellent education her 
son received under her direction, was granddaughter of 
Eleonor of Guyenne. She was born at Burgos, in Spain, 
in 1185, and was the daughter of Alphonso IX., King of 
Castile, and of Eleonor, daughter of Henry H. of England. 
— Queens of England^ p. 164. 

Note VVV.— Page 284. 

" Sucd)ia?'—\\\ 1030, Frederic of Staufen, Lord of Ho- 
henstaufen, displayed so much courage in battle, that the 
Emperor, Henry IV., bestowed upon him the Duchy of 
Suabia, and his daughter Agnes in marriage. Thus was 
laid the foundation of the future greatness of a house, 
whose elevation and fall are among the most important 
epochs in the history of the German empire. The inex- 
tinguishable hatred of the Guelphs, against the house of 
Hohenstaufen (Ghibelines) resulted in a contest which in- 
volved Germany and Italy in accumulated suiferings for 
more than three hundred years. — See Encyclopedia. 

Note WWW.— Page 288. 

" Submission of the eastern Enijnre to the Poj)e?^ — If the 
French would place Alexius on the throne, religious schism 
should be healed ; the eastern church should be brought 
into subjection to the church of Rome ; and Greece should 
pour forth her population and her treasures for the recovery 
of the Holy Land. — See Encyclojyedia. 



NOTES. 485 

Note XXX.— Page 291. 

^^ St. Dominic.'''' — The Dominicans originated in 1215, at 
Toulouse. The principal objects of their institution was to 
preach against heretics. This passion for heresy-hunting 
established the order of the Inquisition. The Dominicans 
were called Jacobins in JFrance, because their first convent 
at Paris, was in the onto St. Jaques. Their order is now 
flourishing only in Spain, Portugal, Sicily and America. — 
See Encylopedia. 

N'oTE TYY.— Page 296. 

''''Magna Cliarta.'''' — The Great Charter of Liberties, ex- 
torted from King John, in 1215. The barons who com- 
posed the army of God and the Holy Church, were the 
whole nobility of England ; their followers comprehended 
all the yeomanry and free peasantry with the citizens and 
burgesses of London. John had been obliged to yield to 
this general union, and, June 15th, both encamped on the 
plain called Eunneymede, on the banks of the Thames, and 
conferences v^^ere opened, which were concluded on the 19th. 
The thirty-ninth article contains the writ of Tiabeas corjms^ 
and the trial by jury, the most effectual securities against 
oppression which the wisdom of man has ever devised. — 
See Encyclopedia. 

Note ZZZ.— Page 307. 

" Filled the office of Regent of Jerusalem.'''' — In the 13th 
century we find woman seated, at least as mother and re- 
gent, on many of the western thrones. Blanche, of Castile, 
governed in the name of her infant son, as did the Count- 
ess of Champagne for the young Thibaut, and the Countess 
of Flanders for her captive husband. Isabella, of Manche, 
also exercised the greatest influence over her son, Henry 
III., King of England. Jane, of Flanders, did not content 
herself with the power, but desired manly honors and en- 
signs, and claimed at the consecration of St. Louis, the right 
of her husband to bear the naked sword, the sword of 
France. By a singular coincidence, a woman, in the year 



486 KOTES. 

1250, succeeded, for the first time, a sultan. Before this, a 
woman's name had never been seen on the coin, or men- 
tioned in the public prayers. The Caliph of Bagdad pro- 
tested against the scandal of this innovation. — Miclielefa 
History of France. 

Note AAAA.— Page 308. 

^'' St. DunstanP — Dunstan, Abbot of Glastonbury, in the 
year 948, possessed complete ascendancy over King Edred 
and the councils of state. He lived for some time in a 
cell so small that he could neither stand nor sit in it, and 
was honored with remarkable dreams, visions, and tempta- 
tions. He it was who introduced the order of Benedictine 
monks into England. — Parley'' s History. 

Note BBBB.— Page 309. 

'■'' Convent of HEsixin.''^ — Queen Berengaria fixed her 
residence at Mans, in the Orleannois, where she held a 
great part of her foreign dower. Here she founded the no- 
ble Abbey of HEspan. — Queens of England. 

Note CCCC— Page 314. 

'•'■ Sultan of Egypt.'''* — SajAadin's son, Coradinus, the 
Prince of Syria and Palestine, did not proclaim the death 
of his father till he had secured himself in the possession 
of the royal coflers. Discord and rebellion were universal 
throughout Egypt when the news arrived of the death of 
Saphadin, and his son Carnel, lord of that country, was 
compelled to fly into Arabia for protection from his mutin- 
ous people. — Mills'* Crusades.. 

Note DDDD.— Page 320. 

^''Mongols.'*'' — Genghis Khan, the chief of a mongrel 
horde, in 1260, conceived the bold plan of conquering the 
whole earth. After the death of Genghis Khan, in 1227, 
his sons pursued his conquests, subjugated all China, sub- 
verted the Caliphate of Bagdad, and made the Seljook 
Sultans of Iconium tributary. 



soTEs. 487 

Note EEEE.— Page 323. 

" Wainseoted with goldy — This description of the Sul 
tan's palace is taken from William of Tvre's glowing ac- 
count of the " House of Wisdom," found in a note of Miche- 
lefs France^ vol. 1, p. 206. 

mTE FFFF.— Page 327. 

•' Moslem Rosary.'''' — A rosary of ninety-nine beads, 
called Tusbah, or implement of praise. In dropping the 
beads through the fingers, thej' repeat the attributes of God, 
as, O Creator, O merciful, &c., &c. This act of devotion is 
called Taleel, The name Allah is always joined to the 
epithet, as " Ya Allah Kalick, Ya Allah Kerreem," found 
in note to the Bahar Danush. 

KoTE GGGG.— Page 328. 

" Congregation repeated ' Praise he to God.^ " — See Grif- 
fith's description of 3fahomedan funeral. 

Note HHHII.— Page 330. 

Kibla, or Cabbala, signifies oral tradition. The term is 
used by the Jews and Mahomedans to denote the traditions 
of their ancestors, or, most commonly, their mystical phi- 
losophy. — Encyclopedia. 

Note IIIL— Page 333. 

'''^ Tones of the Arabic.'''' — Frederic II., the grandson of 
Barbarossa, was successively the pupil, the enemy, and 
the victim of the church. At the age of twenty one years, 
in obedience to his guardian, Innocent III., he assumed the 
cross ; the same promise was repeated at his royal and im- 
perial coronations, and his marriage with the heiress of Je- 
rusalem forever bound him to defend the kingdom of his 
son Conrad. For suspending his vow, Frederic was excom- 
municated by Gregory IX. ; for presuming the next year, 
to accomplish his vow, he was again excommunicated by 
the same pope. 



488 NOTES. 

He was well foraied, of a fair and fine complexion, and 
a gentle and kind expression of the eye and mouth. He 
was brave, bold, and generous, and possessed great talents, 
highly cultivated. He understood all the languages of his 
subjects — Greek, Latin, Italian, German, French and Ara- 
hie. He was severe and passionate, mild or liberal, as 
circumstances required ; gay, cheerful, and lively, as his 
feelings dictated. He was a noted Freethinker, and re- 
garded men of all religions with equal favor. 

II^OTE JJJJ.— Page MQ. 

" Opened Negotiations with the Sultan of JEgypt^ — 
Frederic signed a treaty with Camel, which more efiectual- 
ly promoted the object of the Holy Wars than the efforts 
of any former sovereign. For ten years the Christians and" 
Mussulmans were to live upon terms of brotherhood. Jeru- 
salem, Jaffa, Bethlehem, N^azareth, and their appendages, 
and the Holy Sepulchre, were restored to the Christians. 

IToTE KinOi.— Page 348. 

'■'■Simon cle Montforty — ^The family of Montforts seems 
to have been fiercely ambitious. They trace their origin to 
" Charlemagne." 

Simon de Montfort, the true leader of the war against 
the Albigeois was a veteran of the crusades, hardened in 
the unsparing battles of the Temj)lars and the Assassins. 
On his return from the Holy Land he engaged in this 
bloody crusade, in the South of France. 

His second son seeking in England the fortune which he 
had missed in France, fought on the side of the English 
commons, and threw open to them the doors of Parliament. 
After having had both king and kingdom in his power, he 
was overcome and slain. His son (grandson of the cele- 
brated Montfort, who was the chief in the crusade against 
the Albigeois) avenged him by murdering in Italy, at the 
foot of the altar, the nephew of the king of England, who 
was returning from the Holy Land. This deed ruined the 



NOTES. _ 489 

Montforts. Ever after they were looked upon with horror 
and detestation. — Michelet. 

NoTK LLLL.— Page 351. 

" Richard of- Cornwall^'''' in the spring of the year 1240, 
embarked for the crusade. The Christian name of the Earl 
of Cornwall alarmed the Saracens. The verj woi-d Rich- 
ard was dreaded in Syria ; so great was the terror which 
Coeur de Lion had spread. 

Note MMMM.— Page 351. 

" Greelc Fire.'''' — This was invented in the Tth century. 
When the Arabs besieged Constantinople, a Greek architect 
deserted from the Caliph to the Greeks, and took with him 
a composition, which by its wonderful effects, struck terror 
into the enemy, and forced them to take flight. Sometimes 
it was wrapped in flax attached to arrows and javelins, and 
so thrown into the fortifications and other buildino-s of the 
enemy to set them on fire. 

At other times it was used in throwing stone balls from 
iron or metallic tubes against the enemy. Tlie use of this 
fire continued at least until the end of the 13th century, but 
no contemporary writer has handed down to us any ac- 
curate account of its composition. 

]^0TE NNj^N".— Page 351. 

" King Louis.'''' — ^The superstition of a French king, and 
the successes of the savage Korasmians, gave birth to the 
seventh crusade. One night during the Christmas festival 
(a.d. 1245), Louis caused magnificent crosses, fabricated by 
goldsmiths, to be sown on the new dresses, which, as usual 
upon such occasions, had been bestowed upon the courtiers. 
The next day the cavaliers were suriDrised at the religious 
ornaments which had been afiixed to their cloaks ; but piety 
and loyalty combined to prevent them from renouncing the 
honors which had been thrust upon them. 

Note 0000.— Page 351. 
''^ Statutes of Oxford .'''' — The English barons assembled at 



490 . NOTES. 

Oxford, ou the 11th of June, 1258, and obliged the king 
and his eldest son, then eighteen years of age, to agree to 
a treaty b}^ which twenty-four of their own body, at the 
head of whom M-as De Montfort, had authority given them 
to reform all abuses. — History of England. 

Note PPPP.— Page 355. 

^^ Mamelukes.'''' — Slaves from the Caucasian countries, 
who, from menial offices, were advanced to the dignities of 
state. They did not, however, form a separate body ; but 
when Genghis Khan made himself master of the greatest 
part of Asia, in the thirteenth century, and carried vast 
numbers of the inhabitants into slavery^, the Sultan of Egyj)t 
bought twelve thousand of them, and had them instructed 
in military exercises, and formed a regular corps of them. 
They soon exhibited a spirit of insubordination and rebel- 
lion, and in 1254 appointed one of their own number Sultan 
of Egypt. Their dominion continued two hundred and 
sixtj^-three years. — Encyclojpedia. 

Note QQQQ.— Page 355. 

'"'Damascus Steel?'' — Damascus was celebrated in the 
middle ages for the manufacture of sabres, of such peculiar 
qualitj^ as to be perfectly elastic and very hard. 

Note ERRE.— Page 358. 

" Eva Stronghow?'' — Dermot, King of Leinster, formed a 
treaty with Pritchard, surnamed Strongbow, earl of Strigul. 
This nobleman who was of the illustrious house of Clare, 
had impaired his fortune by expensive pleasures, and being 
ready for any desjjerate undertaking, he promised assis- 
tance to Dermot on condition that he should espouse Eva, 
daughter of that prince, and be declared heir to all his 
dominions. — Hume''s History of England. 

Note SSSS.— Page 862. 

" Queen Gold?'' — One great cause of the queen's unpopu- 
larity in London originated from the unprincipled manner 



NOTES. 491 

m which she exercised her influence to compel all vessels 
freighted with corn, wool, or any peculiarly valuable cargo, 
to unlade at her hithe, or quay, called Queen-hithe, because 
at that port the dues which formed a part of the revenues 
of the queens-consort of England, and the tolls, were paid, 
according to the value of the lading. In order to annoy 
the citizens of London, Henry, during the disputes regard- 
ing the queen's gold, revived the old Saxon custom of con- 
vening folkmotes which was in reality the founding the 
House of Commons. — Queens of England. 

Note TTTT.— Page 365. 

" Holy crown of ThornsP — ^This inestimable relic was 
borne in triumph through Paris by Louis himself — barefoot 
and in his shirt, and a free gift of ten thousand marks re- 
conciled the emperor, Baldwin de Courtenay, to his loss. 
The success of this transaction tempted him to send to the 
king a large and authentic portion of the true cross, the 
baby linen of the Son of God, the lance, the sponge, and 
the chain of his Passion. — Gibbon., vol. vi. p. 122. 

Note UUUU.— Page 367. 

''''Lay conGealecV' — During the captivity of her husband 
and son, it is asserted that Eleanor, of Provence, made 
more than one private visit to England, but she ostensibly 
resided in France with her younger children, under the 
kind protection of her sister, Queen Marguerite. Robert, 
of Gloucester said that she was espy in the land for the 
purpose of liberating her brave son. — Queens of England. 

Note YYVV.— Page 373. 

" Shouts of inti'suers^'' — Lady Maud Mortimer having 
Bent her instructions to Prince Edward, he made his escape 
by riding races with his attendants till he had tired their 
horses, when he rode up to a thicket where dame Maud had 
ambushed a swift steed. Mounting his gallant courser, 
Edward turned to his guard, and bade them " commend 



4:92 NOTES. 

liim to his sire the king, and tell him he would soon be at 
liberty," and then galloped off; while an armed party ap- 
peared on the opposite hill, a mile distant, and displayed 
the banner of Mortimer. — Queens of England. 

I^oTE WWWW.— Page 386. 

"When the Old Man rode forth, he was jDreceded by a 
crier who bore a Danish axe with a long handle, all cov- 
ered with silver, and stuck full of daggers, who proclaimed, 
" Turn from before him who bears the death of kings in 
his hands." — -Joinville^ p. 97. 

E'oTE XXXX.— Page 387. 

" Fedavisy — Henri, Count of Champagne, visiting the 
grand-prior of the Assassins, the latter led him up a lofty 
tower, at each battlement of which stood two fedavis (de- 
votees). On a sign from him, two of these sentinels flung 
themselves from the top of the tower. " If you wish it," 
lie said to the count, " all these men shall do the same." — 
Michelet. 

Note TTYY.— Page 390. 

^'Loving lipsP — " It is storied," says Fuller, " how Elea- 
nor, his lady, sucked all the poison out of his wounds with- 
out doing any harm to herself. So sovereign a remedy is a 
woman's tongue, anointed with the virtue of a loving affec- 
tion. Pity it is that so pretty a story should not be true 
(with all the miracles in love's legends) ; and sure he shall 
get himself no credit, who undertaketh to confute a ^^assage 
so sounding to the honor of the sex." 

I^OTE ZZZZ.— Page 406. 

" Earl of Devony — The Courtenays derive their ancestry 
from " Louis the Fat." Beside the branch that was estab- 
lished upon the throne of Constantinople, a part of the 
family settled in England, and twelve Earls of Devonshire 
of the name of Courtenay were ranked among the chief 



NOTES. 493 

barons of the realm, for a period of more than two hinidred 
years. 

By sea and land they fought under tlie standard of the 
Edwards and Henrys. Their names are conspicuous in 
battles, in tournaments, and in the original list of the Order 
of the Garter ; three brothers shared the Spanish victory of 
the Black Prince. One, the favorite of Henry the Eighth, in 
the Camp of the Cloth of Gold broke a lance against the 
French monarch. Another lived a prisoner in the Tower, 
and the secret love of Queen Mary, whom he slighted per- 
haps for the princess Elizabeth, and his exile at Padua, has 
shed a romantic interest on the annals of the race. — Gibbon'' s 
Rome. 

Note AAAAA.— Page -iOT. 

'''' Merlin P — Merlin Ambrose, a British writer who 
flourished about the latter end of the fifth century. The 
accounts we have of him are so mixed up with fiction, that 
to disentangle his real life from the mass would be impos- 
sible. He was the greatest sage and mathematician of his 
time, the counsellor and friend of five English kings, Yol- 
tigern, Ambrosius, Uther, Pendragon, and Arthur. He 
uttered many prophecies resjDecting the future state of Eng- 
land. — Encycloi)edia. 

IN'oTE BBBBB.— Page 408. 

" Unjust As^evsionP — When Leicester brought his newly- 
wedded wife, the king's sister, to pay his devoir to Eleanor 
of Provence, he was received with a burst of fury by Hen- 
ry, who called him the seducer of his sister, and an excom- 
municated man, and ordered his attendants to turn him out 
of the palace. Leicester endeavored to remonstrate, but 
Henry would not hear him, and he was expelled, weeping 
with rage, and vowing vengeance against the young queen, 
to whose influence he attributed this reverse. — Queens of 
England. 

Note CCCCC— Page 416. 

'•'■ Daughter of Elin de Montfm^t?'' — The first mischance 



494 NOTES. 

that befell the Welsh was the capture of tlie bride of 
Llewellyn, coming from France. 

The young damsel, though the daughter of Simon de 
Montfort, Edward's mortal foe whom he had slain in battle, 
was at the same time, the child of his aunt, Eleanor Plan- 
tagenet. He received her v/itli the courtesy of a kinsman, 
and consigned her to the gentle keeping of his queen, with 
whom she resided at "Windsor Castle. 

The fair bride of Llewellyn died after bringing him a 
living daughter. This daughter whose name was Guendo- 
lin, was brought to Edward a captive in her cradle; she 
was reared and professed a nun in the convent with her 
cousin Glades, only daughter of Prince David. — Queens of 
England. 

Note DDDDD.— Page 421. 

" Iioould have taught him.''^ — Alphonso, tenth King of 
Castile who flourished in the 18th century. When contem- 
plating the doctrine of the epicycles, exclaimed, " Were the 
universe thus constructed, if the deity had called me to his 
councils at the creation of the world, I would have given 
him good advice." He did not however mean any impiety 
or irreverence, except what was directed against the system 
of Ptolemy. 

Note EEEEE.— Page 425. 

'•^ Iilotley courtiers P — Alphonso was not in good repute 
with his people, either as a Spaniard or a Christian. A 
great clerk, devoted to the evil sciences of Alchemy' and 
Astrology, he was ever closeted with his Jews, to make 
spurious money or spurious laws — adulterating the Gothic 
laws by a mixture of the Roman. — Michelefs France. 

Note FFFFF.— Page 423. 

" Raymond Lullius.'''' — A story is told of this famous 
alchemist, that during his stay in London, he changed for 
King Edward L, a mass of 50,000 pounds of quicksilver 
into gold, of which the first rose nobles were coined. 



NOTES. 495 

Note GGGGG.— Page 433. 

'''' Everyiohere ivell received.'''' — The Mendicants strayed 
everywliere — begged, lived on little, and were everywhere 
well received. Subtle, eloquent, and able men, tbey dis- 
charged a multiplicity of worldly commissions with discre- 
tion. Europe was filled with their activity. Messengers, 
preachers, and at times diplomatists, they were then what 
the post and press now are. — Jfichelefs France. 

Note HHHHII.— Page 435. 

'■^ Slipped a ring.'''' — Procida offered the ambitious Peter 
of Arragon, the crown of Sicily, which that monarch might 
justly claim by his marriage with the daughter of Main- 
froy, and by the dying voice of Conradin, who from the 
scaffold had cast a ring to his heir and avenger. — O'lhhon. 

Note IIIII.— Page 437. 

'''' Friar Bacon?'' — ^Though an extraordinary man, could 
not entirely free himself from the prejudices of his times. 
He believed in the philosopher's stone, and in astrology. 
There are to be found in his writings new and ingenious 
views on optics, on the refraction of light on the apparent 
magnitudes of objects, on the magnified appeal ance of the 
sun and moon when in the horizon. He also states that 
thunder and lightning could be imitated by means of salt- 
petre, sulphur, and charcoal. Hence he had already an 
idea of gunpowder. 

Note JJJJJ.— Page 440. 

" Albertus Mogmts.'''' — During the yenv 1280, died the 
celebrated Albert the Great, of the Order of Preaching 
Friars, less known as a monk than a magician. The pro- 
digious diversity of his learning, and the taste which he had 
for experiments in alchemy, which he himself called magi- 
cal operations, caused a superhuman power to be attributed 
to him. Besides the automaton which St. Thomas de 
Aquinas, his disciple, broke with a club, it is affirmed that 
Albert entertained William, Count of Holland, at a miracu- 



496 NOTES. 

lous banquet in the garden of bis cluioter and tbat tbougli 
it was in the dejjth of winter^ the trees appeared as in 
spring, covered with flowers and leaves, whicli vanished as 
if bj enchantment, after the repast. — History of the Pojpes. 

Note KKKKK.— Page 446. 
" I was anxious?'' — This passage is quoted from Falcando, 
an Italian historian of the twelfth century. 

Note LLLLL.— Page 449. 
" Shepherd of CotosivoUV — To Eleanora, is due the credit 
of introducing the Spanish breed of sheep into England. 

Note MMMMM.— Page 452. 
" Bed stocldngsP — According to Michelet, Procida in- 
fluenced the pope to sign the treaty with the Greek Empe- 
ror, by repeating the insulting allusion of Charles to the 
purple buskins worn by the pontifi". 

Note NNNNN.— Page 453. 
" Easter- Monday ^ 1282." — The intelligent readers of his- 
tory will observe an anachronism in placing the Sicilian 
vespers after the Welsh war. They will also discover a 
mistake in representing Alj^honse as the rival of Conrad, 
rather than of Rodolph, of Hapsburg, for the crown of the 
German empire. 

Note OOOOO.— Page 454. 
" ResGuedP — Constance of Arragon, fortunately arrived 
in time to prevent the Sicilians, from putting Charles 
the Lame to death. She carried him oif from Messina in 
in the night and sent him to Spain. When Charles of Arra- 
gon was informed of the defeat of his troops, and the cap- 
tivity of his son, he fell as though struck down by a thun- 
derbolt, and succeeding attacks of epilepsy carried him to 
the tomb in a few months. Through the mediation of Ed- 
ward, Charles the Lame, surrendered to Alphonse of Arra- 
gon, all claims to the crown of Sicily, and thus gained his 
liberty. He reigned over Provence in right of hia niothej, 
and was the progenitor of Margaret of Anjou.. 



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